(Genders and Sexualities in The Social Sciences) Barbara Pini, Bob Pease - Men, Masculinities and Methodologies-Palgrave Macmillan (2013)

Men, Masculinities and Methodologies
Genders and Sexualities in the Social Sciences

Series Editors: Victoria Robinson, University of Sheffield, UK and Diane Richardson,
University of Newcastle, UK
Editorial Board: Raewyn Connell, University of Sydney, Australia; Kathy Davis, Utrecht
University, The Netherlands; Stevi Jackson, University of York, UK; Michael Kimmel,
State University of New York, Stony Brook, USA; Kimiko Kimoto, Hitotsubashi Univer-
sity, Japan; Jasbir Puar, Rutgers University, USA; Steven Seidman, State University of
New York, Albany, USA; Carol Smart, University of Manchester, UK; Liz Stanley, Univer-
sity of Edinburgh, UK; Gill Valentine, University of Leeds, UK; Jeffrey Weeks, South Bank
University, UK; Kath Woodward, The Open University, UK
Titles include:
Niall Hanlon
MASCULINITIES, CARE AND EQUALITY
Identity and Nurture in Men’s Lives
Brian Heaphy, Carol Smart and Anna Einarsdottir (editors)
SAME SEX MARRIAGES
New Generations, New Relationships
Sally Hines and Yvette Taylor (editors)
SEXUALITIES
Past Reflections, Future Directions
Meredith Nash
MAKING ‘POSTMODERN’ MOTHERS
Pregnant Embodiment, Baby Bumps and Body Image
Barbara Pini and Bob Pease (editors)
MEN, MASCULINITIES AND METHODOLOGIES
Victoria Robinson and Jenny Hockey
MASCULINITIES IN TRANSITION
Yvette Taylor, Sally Hines and Mark E. Casey (editors)
THEORIZING INTERSECTIONALITY AND SEXUALITY
Yvette Taylor, Michelle Addison (editors)
QUEER PRESENCES AND ABSENCES
Kath Woodward
SEX POWER AND THE GAMES
Genders and Sexualities in the Social Sciences

Series Standing Order ISBN 978–0–230–27254–5 hardback
978–0–230–27255–2 paperback
(outside North America only)
You can receive future titles in this series as they are published by placing a standing order.
Please contact your bookseller or, in case of difficulty, write to us at the address below with
your name and address, the title of the series and the ISBN quoted above.
Customer Services Department, Macmillan Distribution Ltd, Houndmills, Basingstoke,
Hampshire RG21 6XS, England
Men, Masculinities and
Methodologies
Edited by
Barbara Pini
Griffith University, Australia
and
Bob Pease
Deakin University, Australia
Selection and editorial matter © Barbara Pini and Bob Pease 2013
Individual chapters © Respective authors 2013
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this
publication may be made without written permission.
No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted
save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence
permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency,
Saffron House, 6–10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS.
Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
The authors have asserted their rights to be identified as the authors of this
work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published 2013 by
PALGRAVE MACMILLAN
Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited,
registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke,
Hampshire RG21 6XS.
Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC,
175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies
and has companies and representatives throughout the world.
Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States,
the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries.
ISBN 978–1–137–00572–4
This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully
managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing
processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the
country of origin.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
Contents
List of Illustrations vii

Acknowledgements viii
Notes on Contributors ix
1 Gendering Methodologies in the Study of Men and

Masculinities 1
Barbara Pini and Bob Pease
2 Methods and Methodologies in Critical Studies on Men

and Masculinities 26
Jeff Hearn
3 Epistemology, Methodology and Accountability in Researching

Men’s Subjectivities and Practices 39
Bob Pease
4 Issues of Intimacy, Masculinity and Ethnography 53

Tristan Bridges
5 Negotiating Gender in Men’s Research among Men 64

Michael Flood
6 Making Connections: Speed Dating, Masculinity and

Interviewing 77
Máirtín Mac an Ghaill, Chris Haywood and Zoë Bright
7 Gendered Selves, Gendered Subjects: Interview Performances

and Situational Contexts in Critical Interview Studies of Men
Linn Egeberg Holmgren
8 Conversations about Otokorashisa (Masculinity/‘Manliness’):

Insider/Outsider Dynamics in Masculinities Research in Japan 103
Romit Dasgupta
9 Counting Men: Quantitative Approaches to the Study of Men

Roger Patulny and Barbara Pini
v
vi Contents
10 Ongoing Methodological Problematics: Masculinities

and Male Rock Climbers 129
Victoria Robinson
11 Disability: Cripping Men, Masculinities and Methodologies 142
Dan Goodley and Katherine Runswick-Cole
12 Peering Upwards: Researching Ruling-Class Men 157
Mike Donaldson and Scott Poynting
13 Getting into the Lives of Ruling-Class Men: Conceptual
Problems, Methodological Solutions 170
Sebastián Madrid
14 Men Researching Violent Men: Epistemologies, Ethics and
Emotions in Qualitative Research 183
Malcolm Cowburn
15 Encountering Violent Men: Strange and Familiar 197
Lucas Gottzén
16 Involving Older Gay Men in Research: The Lure of Group
Experience 209
Kip Jones and Lee-Ann Fenge
17 Interviewing Older Men Online 223
Miranda Leontowitsch
18 Using Visual Methods to Hear Young Men’s Voices: Discussion
and Analysis of Participant-Led Photographic Research in the
Field 236
Cliona Barnes
Index 249
Illustrations
Figures
9.1 HILDA – social exclusion (% 1 item+) by marital/parental

status 120
9.2 HILDA social disconnection (10–70) by marital/parental
status 121
9.3 ATU06 time with others by marital, parental status 123
18.1 A practice shot taken at Forthill school 241
18.2 Patrick’s community centre and community bus 242
18.3 Hair gel, deodorant and aftershave 246
Tables
9.1 Regression models, social connection and exclusion: HILDA

and ATU 124
vii
Acknowledgements
We are grateful to Michelle Singh for providing editorial support in the

production of this manuscript.
viii
Contributors
Cliona Barnes is a researcher in sociology. Her research interests include the

study of youth and gender, with a particular focus on young masculinities.
She is also interested in the study of social-class inequalities, community life
and the processes of social regeneration. New methodologies, particularly
the use of photography as a tool to understand the everyday lives of research
participants, are at the core of her work. Her most recent research focuses
on the experiences of residents currently living in areas undergoing large-
scale social and physical regeneration. Previous research has focused on the
performance of young masculinities in a school environment.
Tristan Bridges is Assistant Professor of Sociology at The College at

Brockport, State University of New York. His research is centrally concerned
with men’s participation in gender and sexual inequality in the United
States. Tristan’s work finds that contemporary young men in the United
States are pushing the boundaries of what is considered ‘masculine’, but
they are doing so in ways that often fail to challenge relations of power
and inequality. He is currently beginning a qualitative project investigating
the significance of ‘man caves’ in US couples’ homes.
Zoë Bright currently works in the School of Education, Communication

and Language Sciences, Newcastle University. Her research interests include
informal communication and the effects it has on organizational aims and
goals. Alongside this, she is exploring the gendered dynamics of online
research methods with a particular focus on the interplay between different
communication platforms and meaning making.
Malcolm Cowburn is Professor of Applied Social Science and Principal Lec-

turer in Criminology at Sheffield Hallam University. His three main areas
of research interest are (1) sex offenders and sexual violence, (2) prisons
and the management of diversity and (3) research/applied ethics. The first
involves thinking about how sexual violence and sex offenders are socially
constructed. This requires addressing both psychological and sociological
understandings of sexual harm. Second, he is increasingly interested in
understanding the intersections of identities – race, ethnicity, faith, gen-
der sexuality, disability and age – and how these can cast light on the ways
in which prisoners manage their time in gaol. Third, the two areas men-
tioned above have required detailed and rigorous exploration of the ethical
issues underpinning research practice. Of prime concern has been the ten-
sion between allowing research participants to seek openly and freely while
ix
x Notes on Contributors
ensuring that the research did not collude with intended or ongoing harm
to other people.
Romit Dasgupta is Assistant Professor in the Discipline of Asian Studies

at the University of Western Australia. His research interests focus around
gender/sexuality, popular/visual culture in Japan and Asia and ‘in-between’
identities. He is the co-editor of Genders, Transgenders and Sexualities in Mod-
ern Japan (2005) and the author of the monograph Re-reading the Salaryman in
Japan: Crafting Masculinities (2012). Other recent publications include ‘ “The
Lost Decade” of the 1990s and Shifting Masculinities in Japan’, Culture,
Society & Masculinity, 1(1), 2009, pp. 79–95; ‘Globalisation and the Bod-
ily Performance of “Cool” and “Uncool” Masculinities in Corporate Japan’,
Intersections, Issue 23, 2010; and ‘Emotional Spaces and Places of Salaryman
Anxiety in Tokyo Sonata’, Japanese Studies, 31(3), 2011, pp. 373–86.
Mike Donaldson was for many years the Head of the Sociology Department
at the University of Wollongong, where he is now an Honorary Research
Fellow in the Faculty of Arts. His work on class and gender includes Male
Trouble (2003, with Stephen Tomsen), Ruling Class Men (2007, with Scott
Poynting) and Migrant Men: Critical Studies of Masculinities and the Migration
Experience (2009 with Ray Hibbins, Richard Howson and Bob Pease).
Lee-Ann Fenge is Associate Dean for postgraduate students at Bournemouth

University. Before entering academia, she was a social worker in both hospi-
tal and community settings working with older people. She has an interest
in research and practice concerning older people and has a particular inter-
est in participatory methodologies. Her research includes the ‘Gay and Grey’
project (2003–2006), which used participatory action research methodology,
and, more recently, the ‘Gay and Pleasant Land?’ project.
Michael Flood is a sociologist at the University of Wollongong. His research

focuses on the primary prevention of violence against women and men,
and young men’s heterosexual relations. He is the lead editor of the Interna-
tional Encyclopedia of Men and Masculinities and the author of a wide variety
of academic papers on men and masculinities, violence against women
and violence prevention, male heterosexuality, fathering and pornography.
Dr Flood is also a trainer and community educator with a long involvement
in community advocacy and education work focused on men’s violence
against women.
Dan Goodley is Professor of Disability Studies and Education at the Univer-

sity of Sheffield. His research and teaching aim to shake up dominant myths
in psychology as well as contributing, in some small way, to the develop-
ment of Critical Disability Studies theories that understand and eradicate
Notes on Contributors xi
disablism. Recent publications include Disability Studies: An Interdisciplinary

Introduction (2011).
Lucas Gottzén is Assistant Professor in Social Work at Linköping University,

Sweden. His research mainly focuses on masculinity, fatherhood and men’s
violence against women. He is the co-editor of Andra män: Maskulinitet,
normskapande och jämställdhet (‘Other Men: Masculinity, Normativity, and
Gender Equality’, with Rickard Jonsson, 2012) and NORMA: Nordic Journal
for Masculinity Studies. He has published in a variety of journals, including
Gender and Education, Gender & Society, Men and Masculinities and Qualitative
Research.
Chris Haywood is Director of Postgraduate Studies in the School of Arts and

Cultures at the University of Newcastle. His current work involves exploring
men, masculinity and new cultures of intimacy. He is currently completing a
book, Masculinities and Education: Social, Cultural and Global Transformations,
with Máirtín Mac an Ghaill.
Jeff Hearn is Professor in Gender Studies (Critical Studies on Men),

Linköping University, Sweden; Professor of Sociology, University of
Huddersfield, UK; and Professor, Hanken School of Economics, Helsinki,
Finland. His books include ‘Sex’ at ‘Work’ (1987); The Gender of Oppres-
sion (1987); The Sexuality of Organization (1989); Men, Masculinities and
Social Theory (1990); Men in the Public Eye (1992); Men as Managers, Man-
agers as Men (1996); The Violences of Men (1998); Men, Gender Divisions and
Welfare (1998); Gender, Sexuality and Violence in Organizations (2001); Infor-
mation Society and the Workplace (2004); Handbook of Studies on Men and
Masculinities (2005); European Perspectives on Men and Masculinities (2006);
Sex, Violence and the Body (2008); The Limits of Gendered Citizenship (2011);
Men and Masculinities around the World (2011); and Rethinking Transnational
Men (2013). He is an elected UK Academician (AcSS) in the Social Sci-
ences. His main research interests include men, gender, sexuality, violence,
organizations, transnationalization and postcolonialism.
Linn Egeberg Holmgren has a PhD in Sociology from Uppsala University,

Sweden, and works with process evaluation at the Centre for Working Life
Studies, Malmö University. Her field of research is critical studies of men and
masculinities with a special interest in men, profeminism and qualitative
methods. Her thesis No Man’s Land: On Men as Feminists, Interview Perfor-
mances and the Politics of Passing (2011) is an exploration of (pro)feminist
men’s presentations of self in interview interaction as well as an exami-
nation of men doing of feminism in the ‘gender equal’ welfare state of
Sweden. Her research shows how gendered privileges are both challenged
and reproduced in the act of interviewing. Her publications include ‘Killing
xii Notes on Contributors
Bill’, Norma: Nordic Journal for Masculinity Studies, 2(1), 2007; ‘Performing
Feminist Affinity’, Atenea, 28(2), 2008; ‘Framing “Men” in Feminism’ with
J. Hearn, Journal of Gender Studies, 18(4), 2009; ‘Co-fielding in Qualita-
tive Interviews’, Qualitative Inquiry, 17(4), 2011; and ‘Feminist Men: From
Principle to Practice’ (2012).
Kip Jones is Reader in Qualitative Research in the Media School and School
of Health and Social Care at Bournemouth University. He was project lead for
the ‘Gay and Pleasant Land?’ project and author and executive producer of
the subsequent short film, Rufus Stone. He moderates the online newsgroup
Performative Social Science, has written articles and book chapters, produced
media, led masterclasses and keynoted on this emerging paradigm.
Miranda Leontowitsch is Honorary Lecturer in Qualitative Research Meth-

ods at St George’s University of London. Her research has explored commu-
nication between health-care professionals and patients and pharmacies as
venues of primary health care. Having encountered many older people in
these settings, her focus has moved to researching issues around self-care
in later life and the experience of early retirement. She is particularly inter-
ested in developing qualitative methods in research on ageing. Miranda has
recently edited a collection titled Researching Later Life and Ageing – Expanding
Qualitative Research Agendas and Methods (2012).
Máirtín Mac an Ghaill works at Newman University College, Birmingham.

He is author of The Making of Men and Contemporary Racisms and Ethnicities.
He is currently completing a text with Chris Haywood titled Education and
Masculinities: Social, Cultural and Global Transformations.
Sebastián Madrid is a PhD candidate at the Faculty of Education and Social

Work, University of Sydney, Australia. Previously, he worked as a researcher
in different institutions including FLACSO and the Ministry of Education in
Chile. He has taught and published in the fields of men and masculinities,
gender relations and education, youth political culture and participation.
He is the author of Trayectoria y eficacia política de los militantes en juven-
tudes políticas. Estudio de la elite política emergente (‘Political Trajectories and
Effectiveness of Young Members of Political Parties. A Study of the Emer-
gent Political Elite’, 2010, with Vicente Espinoza) and Sexualidad, fecundidad
y paternidad en varones adolescentes en América Latina y el Caribe (‘Sexuality,
Fecundity and Fatherhood among Male Adolescents in Latin America and
the Caribbean,’ 2005, with José Olavarría).
Roger Patulny is Lecturer in Social Research Methods in the Sociology Pro-

gram at the University of Wollongong. He has published widely on social
capital and on topics related to social inclusion and connection, including
Notes on Contributors xiii
on volunteering, trust, social contact time and social mix in public housing,
primarily using quantitative methods. He has completed the ARC Discov-
ery 2009–2011: ‘Poor Women and Lonely Men: Examining Gendered Social
Inclusion and Connection in Australia’, concerned with gendered patterns
and emotional well-being associated with social connection, exclusion and
daily time-use patterns. He has also completed several studies on emotions
and is a co-founder and current co-convenor of the Australian Sociologi-
cal Association (TASA) thematic group on the Sociology of Emotions and
Affect (SEA).
Bob Pease is Chair of Social Work in the School of Health and Social
Development at Deakin University, Geelong, Australia. He is the author
or co-editor of 12 books reflecting his research interests in critical social
work, profeminist masculinity politics, global perspectives on men and
masculinities and men’s violence against women. His most recent books
include, as author, Undoing Privilege: Unearned Advantage in a Divided World
(2010) and, as co-editor, Migrant Men: Critical Studies of Masculinities and
the Migration Experience (2009), Critical Social Work: Theories and Prac-
tices for a Socially Just World (2009) and Men and Masculinities Around
the World: Transforming Men’s Practices (2011). He is currently writing a
book titled Migrant and Diasporic Masculinities: Immigrant Men and Gender
Relations in a Multicultural Society and co-editing a book titled The Poli-
tics of Recognition and Social Justice: Transforming Subjectivities in the New
Millennium.
Barbara Pini is Professor in the School of Humanities, Griffith University.

She has an extensive publication record in the field of rural social science,
with expertise in gender and class dynamics in rural spaces and industries.
She has authored Masculinities and Management in Agricultural Organizations
Worldwide (2008) as well as Gender and Rurality (2011) with Lia Bryant. She
has edited Labouring in New Times: Young People and Work (2011, with R. Price,
P. McDonald and J. Bailey), Transforming Gender and Class in Rural Spaces
(2011, with B. Leach), Representing Women in Local Government: An Interna-
tional Comparative Study (2011, with P. McDonald). Her writing has appeared
in numerous journals, including Journal of Rural Studies; Sociologia Ruralis;
Gender, Work and Organization; Work, Employment and Society; Information,
Communication & Society; New Technologies; Work and Employment; and Social
and Cultural Geography.
Scott Poynting is Professor of Criminology in the Department of Sociology

at the University of Auckland. His most recent monograph (with Paul Tabar
and Greg Noble) is On Being Lebanese in Australia (2010). He is co-author
(with Mike Donaldson) of Ruling Class Men (2007).
xiv Notes on Contributors
Victoria Robinson is Reader in Sociology at the University of Sheffield.

Her publications include Masculinities in Transition (2011, with J. Hockey),
Everyday Masculinities and Extreme Sport: Male Identity and Rock Climb-
ing (2008), Mundane Heterosexualities: From Theory to Practices (2007, with
J. Hockey and A. Meah) and forthcoming (2013) Rock Climbing: The Ulti-
mate Guide, Greenwood. She is co-editor, with D. Richardson, of Introducing
Gender and Women’s Studies (3rd edition, 2008) and series editor, also with
D. Richardson, of Genders and Sexualities in the Social Sciences Series.
Katherine Runswick-Cole is Research Fellow in Disability Studies and

Psychology at Manchester Metropolitan University. Her research and pub-
lications focus on disability, childhood and family from a Critical Disabil-
ity Studies perspective. Recent projects include an Economic and Social
Research Council funded project entitled Does Every Child Matter Post-Blair?
The Interconnections of Disabled Childhoods (http://post-blair.posterous.com/)
and Resilience in the Lives of Disabled People with Scope, the UK disability
charity (http://disability-resilience.posterous.com/).
1
Gendering Methodologies in the
Study of Men and Masculinities
Barbara Pini and Bob Pease
Introduction
Critical studies of men and masculinities have developed significantly over

the last 20–30 years. Connell (2007) refers to the rapid growth of the-
oretically informed empirical studies of men’s lives in the 1980s as ‘the
ethnographic moment’ in masculinity studies. Notwithstanding the growth
of this scholarship, we have been struck by the relative lack of interroga-
tion of the epistemologies and methodologies involved in the study of men
and masculinities. It is clear from a review of the empirical literature in mas-
culinity studies that masculinity scholars have generally not problematized
the methodologies they have chosen to research men’s lives. There is no
debate that is comparable to the discussions within feminist scholarship
about appropriate methodologies for researching women’s lives. Research
on men and masculinities has thus failed to consider power differences in
research interviews, cross-gender research, the status of men in fieldwork, the
influence of interviewer gender on the interpretation of data or the appropri-
ateness of using feminist methodologies in studying men (Popoviciu et al.
2006; Whorley and Addis 2006; Delamont and Atkinson 2008; Holmgren
2009; Hopkins and Noble 2009; Curato 2010; Robinson 2010). While there
are exceptions to this generalization, which we review here, we believe that
this lack of attention to methodological issues in undertaking feminist-
informed empirical research with men is problematic on a range of counts.
Two interconnected concerns occur to us in terms of why methodology
matters in relation to the study of men and masculinities.
The first and overarching of these focuses on the political; that is, how
the study of men and masculinities is connected to political imperatives
for social equality and gender justice. Macleod (2007) notes that while
there has been a significant expansion of the literature on masculinity and
men’s lives, less consideration has been given to interrogating patriarchy
and male privilege. If the study of men’s lives is not linked to wider analyses
1
2 Gendering Methodologies and Men and Masculinities
of gender inequality and is not informed by a commitment to egalitar-

ian gender relations, masculinity studies will become a regressive political
project that is more concerned with the liberation of men than gender jus-
tice (Weeks, 1996). Further, if methodological approaches to the study of
men and masculinities are not interrogated and critiqued, then research
on the subject may reproduce rather than challenge disadvantage and dis-
crimination. Male and female researchers studying masculinity and men
are themselves gendered subjects working in gendered institutions. In tradi-
tional social science, as men are considered unmarked and normative, there
is seen to be no need to consider whether researching them should require
specific methodologies or gender-sensitive research practices (Schwalbe and
Wolkomir, 2003). However, putting aside the need for the majority of men
in the social sciences to recognize the implicit gendering of their work, if
women and men are researching men as gendered beings, then it is obvi-
ously necessary for them to give attention to representations of masculinity
in the research process.
Skelton (1998), for example, raises legitimate anxieties about educational
work on masculinities in which bonding between male researchers and par-
ticipants comes at the expense of academics challenging sexist values and
views – thus potentially buttressing masculinist ideologies. In another com-
mentary, Vanderbeck (2005, p. 398) counters the oft-repeated call for more
reflexive accounts of research, positing that such accounts, by what he labels
‘real man’, ethnographers reinscribe hegemonic masculinity. These types of
concerns about the failure of research on men and masculinities to destabi-
lize gendered power would seem particularly urgent given the ascendancy of
neo-conservatism and associated backlashes against feminism and broader
agendas for social equality.
The second issue which provides both a rationale for a book on men,
masculinities and methodologies and highlights the limitations of a lack
of critical methodological work on the subject, concerns theorizing about
masculinities. Yet, as Walby (2010, p. 639) comments in reviewing his
experience of interviewing men about commercial same sex, ‘theoretical
assumptions have methodological consequences’. There have been some
vexed epistemological debates in masculinities research but the methodolog-
ical implications of such debates have been ignored, or at least obscured.
Contestation has occurred over issues such as how to define masculinity
(Clatterbaugh, 1990; Nilan, 1995), whether there is any efficacy in the term
‘masculinity’ itself (Hearn, 1996, 2004), the limitations and potential of
the notion of hegemonic masculinity (Demetriou, 2001; Hooper, 2001) and
inconsistent if not incoherent engagement of modernist and postmodern
modes of thought within critical masculinity studies (Beasley, 2012). These
theoretical discussions have been embedded in wider epistemic debates
such as those mobilizing around post-structuralism, but largely immune has
been a conversation about what all of this may mean methodologically.
Barbara Pini and Bob Pease 3
As Popoviciu et al. (2006, p. 394) contend, seldom does research on men and
masculinities acknowledge and address the ‘interplay between theory, episte-
mology and methodology’. This is in stark contrast to the feminist literature
where there have been and remain strong connections between theory and
methodology. So, for example, writers have opened up to question how and
to what extent, from a feminist post-structural perspective, can we study
women (given such a singular category does not exist) or indeed feminine
identities (when these are understood as provisional, fractured, fluid and
multiple) (St Pierre and Pillow, 2000; Lather, 2006; Livholts, 2011). It is also
in contrast to other theoretical fields related to critical masculinity studies,
that is, queer theory and intersectional theory which we shall address later in
the chapter. To begin, however, we situate the chapters to come by introduc-
ing the emergence of feminist research and the masculinist response to this
challenge as well as provide an overview of the types of accounts that have
largely dominated methodological work on masculinities. That is, reflective
accounts of the experiences of a researcher studying men and masculinities
as either female or male.
The feminist critique of masculinist research

and the rise of feminist research
Research on men and masculinity by male researchers must be understood

within the wider context of the feminist critique of mainstream social sci-
ences and the rise of feminist scholarship and research. This is because
second-wave feminist scholars’ agenda was not simply to include women –
‘add them on’ – in existing knowledge, but to challenge and recalibrate def-
initions and practices of knowledge itself (Roberts, 1981; Stanley and Wise,
1983). This politically charged epistemic project emerged from a critique of
academic research as embedded in the discourses of masculinism. The cen-
tral actor in the masculinist academic tradition is the expert and necessarily
powerful researcher who can make authoritative claims about his subjects
because of his distance, impartiality and objectivity. As Bain (2009, p. 488)
explains, ‘This masculinist knower never problematizes his own position-
ality nor considers the potential partiality of his perspective.’ The feminist
concern with the ideologically infused assumptions of masculinist research
is that such an approach has considerable capacity to distort or even poten-
tially silence women’s experiences. Entire research subjects such as those
concerned with the personal or emotional can be overlooked or dismissed
if knowledge is viewed through a masculinist lens. In summary, feminists
sought a ‘successor science’ (Harding, 1986) to masculinism: they viewed the
latter as reproducing patriarchal inequalities, but the former as potentially
emancipatory. The much-quoted axiom was that feminist research should
be ‘research for women’ rather than ‘research on women’ (for example,
Cummerton, 1986, p. 87; Edwards, 1990, p. 479).
As feminists continued to question the epistemological and methodolog-

ical tenets of masculinism in the academy, discussion emerged as to the
existence of a specific and definable feminist method. Debate ensued, for
example, as to whether quantitative methods were, by definition, ‘less’
feminist as they were associated with positivism, enumeration and hier-
archical power relations between the researcher and researched (Bowles
and Duelli-Klein, 1983). More recently, however, attempts to define a sin-
gle correct feminist methodology have been rejected as such a process is
seen as constraining for the progression of feminist knowledge and, more-
over, flawed in that it confuses method with epistemology (Lawson, 1995;
Moss, 2002). This is reflected in the literature on feminism and quantita-
tive approaches which today is more inclined to focus on how surveys can
be rehabilitated as a feminist method (Scott, 2010). It is also highlighted in
work which has demonstrated the potentially disempowering and thereby
‘non-feminist’ impacts of qualitative methods such as ethnography (Pini,
2004).
In much contemporary feminist writing, scholars have abandoned the
search for distinctly feminist methods as fruitless (Hughes and Cohen, 2011)
and instead focused on ensuring that the what, how and why of their
research is informed by feminist epistemology and ontology; for example,
the belief that women as a group are disadvantaged compared with men
and that addressing gender inequality is a critical political task. This also
means understanding that women’s disadvantage is refracted through the
prism of other social locations so that social justice requires engagement
with other social categories such as age, disability, class, ethnicity, sexuality
and indigeneity. These epistemological assumptions have fostered particular
approaches to the practices of knowledge acquisition, interpretation and dis-
semination. For example, one of us (Barbara) has used focus groups in a study
with farm women and explained how her approach to them was embedded
in her commitment to feminism. She deliberately took a non-directive role
as moderator to provide a space for discussion and reflexivity about gender
issues, but equally facilitated the connections women made between their
individual and collective experiences. She also undertook follow-up focus
groups which furthered the capacity of the focus group as an empower-
ing research strategy (see Pini, 2002). More recently, quantitative researchers
have argued that instead of the instrumentality and detachment underpin-
ning conventional approaches to surveying, ‘feminist’ approaches need to
be reflexive about the design and use of particular statistical techniques so
that the nuances and diversity of women’s experiences of inequality are
communicated (see Hughes and Cohen, 2011).
Feminist debates about methodology have occurred as definitions of,
and assumptions about, knowledge itself have been challenged as a result
of post-structuralism (Butler, 1990; Benhabib, 1991). Understandings of
power as dispersed and multifaceted and of gendered identities as fractured
and contested necessarily opened up new and lively discussions about the
possibilities of undertaking research labelled ‘feminist’ and research designed
to ‘empower’ (Lather, 1991; Probyn, 1993; Longhurst, 1996; St Pierre and
Pillow, 2000). Again, however, the burgeoning of research on men and
masculinities over the past two decades has been largely immune to these
debates.
Responses by male scholars to the feminist critique
What are the implications of the feminist critique of traditional social sci-
ence for men doing research on men? Morgan (1992) noted over 20 years
ago that sociological practice generally was gendered. Men in sociology were
thus challenged to make themselves aware of the feminist critique of the
social sciences. As the field of masculinity studies grows, it needs to be
remembered that such scholarship exists within a patriarchal institutional
context and a phallocentric discourse that values scientific knowledge and
objectivity over subjective experience (Hearn, 2007). Thus while the con-
text of gender scholarship remains male dominated, research on gender will
have political implications. Research on men and masculinities thus should
be understood as existing within the gendered social relations of university
life (Morgan, 1992).
However, as Morgan (1981) observed in an earlier essay, men have not
found it easy to take gender into account in the production of knowledge.
Only a few male social scientists have engaged sympathetically with the fem-
inist critique. While some prominent male scholars wrote hostile rejections
of feminist-informed approaches to social research because these challenged
the centrality of objectivity, most men in the academy simply ignored the
emergence of feminist scholarship and research practices (Delamont and
Atkinson, 2008). Sundberg (2003) suggests that men’s silence about their
gendered positioning in research reflects the masculinist notion of objectiv-
ity. In line with the feminist critique, such research fails to address the ways
in which power relations are embedded within all aspects of the research
process.
What does it mean for men to take gender into account in their research
methodologies? There has been an ongoing debate among feminist social
scientists about whether or not men can do feminist research (Peplau and
Conrad, 1989; Kremer, 1990). The question has also been raised about
whether men can use methodologies regarded as feminist to explore men’s
lives. Over 20 years ago, Kremer (1990) asked whether the methods devel-
oped for women researching women could be appropriate for men and
between women and men. She argued at that time that men should not use
feminist methods and that they cannot do feminist research. This is seen
to be an issue because men have different gender interests when it comes
to researching gender issues. In light of this, when one of us (Bob) utilized
feminist-informed methodologies in researching profeminist men, he felt

the need to argue a case for using methods that were identified as ‘femi-
nist’ (Pease 2000). Jones (1996) also experienced a similar dilemma in using
feminist methodologies as a man.
The debate about whether or not there are feminist methods has impli-
cations for men researching men. If there are no such things as feminist
methods, then the question about whether men can use methods utilized
by feminists is less controversial. If feminist research is more concerned with
the objectives of the research and the theoretical frameworks brought to the
analysis of the data, then all research methods are gender neutral and any
method can be used to explore men and masculinities if the researcher is
sufficiently aware of gender assumptions embedded in the research (Curato
2010). It is the latter, that is, theoretical perspective, rather than specific
methods which is important to profeminist masculinity studies, according
to Haywood and Mac an Ghaill (2003). In their view, existing research meth-
ods such as focus groups, interviews, ethnographies and life histories can
be used to gather material about men’s lives. Curato (2010) also contends
that whatever method is used, it should be theory-led and able to illumi-
nate and make explicit the nuances of men’s subjectivities and experiences
of masculinity.
Curato (2010) further asserts that the sex of the researcher is less impor-
tant in defining research as feminist than the nature of the research and
the way it is done. This suggests that the gender of the researcher is largely
irrelevant to feminist research. Morgan (1992) argues that men can use meth-
ods identified as feminist to research men and masculinities, as long as they
understand that they do so within a patriarchal context. In this view, women
studying men and men studying men are not comparable. The gender of the
researcher does matter. In the following two sections we address this issue
further by comparing and contrasting the experiences of female researchers
and male researchers studying men and masculinities.
Methodological issues in women researching men
A proportion of the literature on women researching men has focused on

access and disclosure, questioning the extent to which the female iden-
tity of the researcher and male identity of the participant affects ‘what
is disclosed or withheld, pursued or neglected’ (Bagilhole and Cross 2006,
p. 38). For example, women researchers have pondered whether men might
be less willing to participate in a study, as well as less expansive about an
issue, if it is associated with normative definitions of femininity and/or con-
flated with women as a group (for example, on health, see Brown, 2010;
on friendship, see Butera, 2006; on family relationships, see Cunningham-
Burley, 1984; on abortion, see Reich, 2008). In this vein Williams and Heikes
(1993) note the potential of social desirability bias in interviews with them
(as female/male interviewers, respectively) in independent studies about

men and non-traditional positions.
Beyond the above, more substantive critiques have examined the research
encounter between the woman researcher and male participant as illustra-
tive of, and embedded in, the social relations of power, including gendered
power (Pini, 2005; Golombisky, 2006; Broom, et al. 2009; Lumsden, 2009;
Holmgren, 2011; Sallee and Harris, 2011). Writers have questioned how
gender is performed by the interviewer/interviewee and considered the
implications of this for their own findings and for gender relations more
broadly. In this process they have also considered the mediating influ-
ences of other social categories such as social class, professional status, age
and cultural background (Song and Parker, 1995; McDowell, 1998; Garg,
2005; Manderson, Bennett and Andajani-Sutjaho, 2006; Al-Makhamreh and
Lewando-Hundt, 2008). Horn (1997) suggests, for example, that being a
young female and ascribed a ‘non-threatening’ feminine identity was poten-
tially useful in research with the police as this enabled access, while being
young and female and positioned within discourses of feminine heterosexu-
ality circumscribed the ethnographic encounters for Gill and Maclean (2002)
in research on rural communities.
In detailing their experiences of research with men, feminist women schol-
ars necessarily draw upon the assumptions and orthodoxies of feminist
research methodology. For example, a recurring reference is Oakley’s (1981)
much cited (and critiqued) thesis that the ‘proper interview’ of the tradi-
tional methodological texts, which necessitates distance and hierarchy, is
distinct from the ‘feminist interview’ which requires reciprocity and equal-
ity. Lee (1997) adds to this, documenting her vulnerabilities in a study
about men and workplace bullying, sexism and sexual harassment; she
thereby questions assumptions about rapport and reciprocity as inherently
positive and necessary in the feminist research encounter. In other reflec-
tions Arendell (1997) and Green and her colleagues (1993) provide evidence
of other types of sexist and sexual harassment in interviews with men –
contesting the belief that interviewers always wield more power in research
interactions. Other control strategies by men, such as seeking to direct the
interview and interrupting, are problematic for Gailey and Prohaska (2011)
for equivalent reasons. Similarly, the fact that Oakley (1981) and her coun-
terparts championed feminist research as a means to ‘give voice’ to women
raises ethical problems for Gatrell (2006) in interviewing men about a study
on household labour, while Riley et al. (2003) note the silencing of their
own voices as they listen to male interviewees express sexist and derogatory
views.
Few writers have moved beyond the (still important) process of identify-
ing the multiple and overlapping methodological conundrums of women
undertaking feminist research with men. An exception is Campbell’s (2003,
p. 301) reflections on research with male custody sergeants in which she
introduces ‘two “new” methodological principles – “critical dialogue” and

“dialectic of control” ’. She argues that the feminist aim for rapport may
be difficult in research where standpoints differ and, in fact, moments of
difference and disjuncture may be common, but this does not negate the
potential to engage with participants. The feminist woman researcher may
not elicit the type of rapport akin to undertaking research with/for women
but can seek and work at ‘interpretive rapport’ to gain ‘an intersubjec-
tive, hermeneutical understanding of “extra-feminist” worlds’ (Campbell,
2003, p. 301). The second of Campbell’s (2003, p. 301) principles, ‘dialec-
tic of control’ suggests that rather than arguing for the involvement of
people in research ‘under the banner of “democratization” ’ we recognize
‘agency as always-already present and political’. Underpinning this princi-
ple is an understanding of power in research as multi-dimensional and fluid
rather than singular and fixed, so that the gendered power relationship of
female researcher/male researched is rendered visible in all its dimensions.
Campbell (2003) acknowledges that seeking to broaden feminist research
methodology to encapsulate the study of men and masculinities is a risky
venture for feminists, not least because it risks diluting the politics and prac-
tice of feminist research. At the same time, she contributes to an important,
timely, yet still vexed conversation for feminist women academics studying
men. Unfortunately, as the following section will reveal, it is a conversa-
tion to which the large population of men undertaking critical masculinities
research have rarely contributed.
Methodological issues in men researching men
Weeks (1996) identifies a new interest by men in telling personal stories

about their lives in contrast to the usual recording of larger societal and
cultural narratives about the public world. Inspired by women’s personal
accounts of their struggles in the world, some men have found an interest
in life history methods (Connell, 1995), critical autobiographies (Jackson,
1990), memory work (Pease, 2000) and auto-ethnography (Philaretou and
Allen, 2006) to link individual lives to wider political processes.
When men interview men, they need to be reflexive about the impact
of gender sameness on the construction of interviewee narratives and the
analysis and interpretation of the interview material. A minimal requirement
is that male researchers need to consider how gender impacts on the process
of the interview. There are very few accounts of male researchers reflecting
on the influence of gender on their research practice. While McKeganey and
Bloor (1991) noted this absence over 20 years ago, their observations are
equally relevant today.
Davidson (2007) believes it is essential that male ethnographers interro-
gate their own implicit male knowledge, understanding and desires that may
link them to the experiences of their male participants. Male researchers
thus need to be reflexive about the ways in which hegemonic forms of

masculinity play out in the research process between themselves and the
participants. This may be particularly relevant when research participants
assume that the male researcher is either straight or gay and how such under-
standing (correctly or incorrectly) influences the narrative response of the
interviewee.
Hearn (2007) emphasizes the importance of men interviewing men being
clear about their intentions vis-a-vis the research relationship. Should they
be aiming to achieve an equal and empathic relationship with male inter-
viewees or should they be establishing some form of critical distance? While
feminist research encourages women who interview women to do so with
solidarity, empathy and friendship, this may not always be appropriate when
men interview men. While one of us (Bob) has conducted research with self-
defined profeminist men and marginalized immigrant men, where the issues
regarding power were in the first instance studying across and in the second
instance studying down, what should happen in relation to power when
the research participants are ruling class men or violent men? Flood (1997)
has suggested that there may be occasions in researching men when the
researcher is not sympathetic to the research participants.
While issues of potential collusion with sexism and misogyny have been
raised in relation to men’s work with men in the human services (Pease,
2001), so too in men researching men, the shared gendered experiences
and assumptions about masculinity may be left unexamined. Furthermore,
when the men being interviewed are working class and non-white and the
researcher is a white professional, issues of unequal power are intensified.
Also, when the men being interviewed express pro-violence, misogynist or
sexist views, it poses particular challenges for profeminist male researchers
who experience themselves as ‘outsiders within’ (Flood, 1997). How should
male researchers respond to such accounts?
When interviewing violent and abusive men, the researcher often has to
listen to accounts of abuse where the male participant refuses to accept
responsibility for his violence and blames women for provoking the vio-
lence (Hearn, 1998; Cowburn, 2007). In such situations, should the male
researcher listen passively to the expression of sexist and misogynist views to
elicit the participant’s own framing of his experience or should he challenge
abusive attitudes and beliefs?
Cowburn (2007) has discussed the challenges he faced when conducting
life history interviews with male sex offenders in prison settings. He believes
that as a researcher, his role is not to challenge the story he is listening to.
Cowburn (2005) has also grappled with the thorny issue of confidentiality in
research with male sex offenders. Silence by the researcher on the extent of
the man’s previous and current sexual offending could involve the researcher
in collusion with past abusive behaviours and contribute to potential further
abuse. However, by being upfront about disclosure of illegal behaviour, the
researcher is less likely to elicit uncensored accounts of sexual offending, or

gain information about the extent of the man’s sexually violent and coercive
behaviour.
Schacht (1997) documents similar difficulties in doing research in misog-
ynist settings by discussing his experience of interviewing male rugby
players. In such settings, a profeminist researcher is faced with the con-
flict between his commitment to gender equality and the expectations that
research should not be exploitative of participants. Schacht believes that if
he expressed his feminist beliefs when the male participants expressed sexist
or misogynist comments, they would have refused to continue the interview
and would have asked him to leave the research setting. He thus rationalized
his silence by arguing that the eliciting and recording of such comments pro-
vided valuable knowledge for the transformation of men’s abusive practices
in the rugby pitch. However, his silence during the interview is likely to have
provided tacit support for the abusive practices he uncovered.
What underpins the types of cited reflections by both female and male
academics on the subject of research about men and masculinities is a desire
to connect feminist/profeminist theory and practice. As we have noted,
this problematic endeavour has typically been overlooked or minimized
in critical masculinities studies. However, as we outline below, the ongo-
ing challenge of shaping methodologies to epistemologies and ontologies of
critical masculinities studies has been given impetus in recent years as schol-
ars taking up conceptual trajectories such as intersectional and queer theory
have begun to grapple with questions of method.
Connecting theory and methodology: Emerging insights

from intersectional and queer theory
Intersectional theory emerged as feminism was faced with the challenge to

develop a theory that was able to address the complexity of how different
dimensions of women’s (and men’s) lives are woven together, particularly
in light of critiques of essentialist assumptions about the nature of women’s
oppression from Black feminist women (e.g. Collins, 1991; Crenshaw, 1991).
Intersectionality has subsequently generated significant feminist discussion,
but addressing how to operationalize the notion in terms of method-
ology, is only in its infancy (Hankivsky et al., 2010; Bryant and Pini,
2011). While efforts by McCall (2005), Walby (2009) and Yeon Choo
and Ferree (2010) to delineate different types of approaches to research-
ing intersectionality, along with detailed reflexive accounts by feminists of
practising intersectionality (e.g. Valentine, 2007; McDowell, 2008; Winker
and Degele, 2011; Christensen and Jensen, 2012), have begun to address this
lacuna, the focus has largely been on the study of women rather than men.
Despite the lens of intersectionality being comparatively little used in
critical masculinity studies, emerging work has demonstrated that it may
be a useful approach to uncovering some of the complexities and con-

tradictions in the lives and experiences of men and their relationship to
power (Lewis, 2009). Indeed, framing studies of men and masculinities in
terms of intersectionality may be particularly useful at this historical junc-
ture in order to respond to orthodoxies about men/boys being in a state of
‘crisis’, but such a framing requires increased attention to methodological
questions.
The growing body of literature on intersectionality theory and method-
ologies has been neatly summed up by Ludvig (2006, p. 247) with the
question: ‘Who defines when, where, which and why particular differences are
given recognition while others are not?’ Issues of which categories should
be given primacy in intersectional studies have been complicated by debates
about the seemingly endless list of social divisions an intersectional focus
may bring forth (Ludvig, 2006). A further concern is that there is poten-
tial to focus only on ‘core’ categories such as race or class and leave others
undertheorized (Bryant and Hoon, 2006).
Shuttleworth et al. (2012, p. 189) argue that disability researchers have
become more attentive to questions of difference in terms of class, ethnic-
ity and sexuality, but done little to explore differences within the category
‘disabled’, and open up to scrutiny the way in which masculinities are inter-
twined with ‘a range of differences in bodily, cognitive, intellectual and
behavioural types (impairments)’. Another aspect of Ludvig’s (2006) ques-
tion is that intersectional theory may focus us only on the oppressed and
leave unexamined the powerful. Thus, for example, in critical masculinities
studies we need to be careful not to focus primarily on men who are stigma-
tized (Bredstrom, 2006) and pathologized (Bilge, 2009). White, heterosexual,
class elite and able-bodied masculinities require interrogation to enable us
to understand more fully how privileged subjectivities are enacted and how
that can be undone.
Inherent in Ludvig’s (2006) question to intersectional theorists is the
issue of agency, and how to overcome some of the determinism that ‘often
unintentionally interpellate individuals or groups into fixed categories as
oppressed or oppressor’ (Valentine et al., 2010, p. 940). For Nare (2010)
in research on Sri Lankan men working as cleaners and carers in Naples,
this requires a focus on the micro level of the body in everyday practices.
McCready (2010) asserts ethnography is a useful method to reveal some of
the contradictory experiences of advantage and disadvantage for Black gay
males at a Californian high school. In other work McDowell (2008) argues
for the utilization of multiple categorical approaches to intersectionality to
retain a focus not only on subjectivity, interaction, agency and resistance,
but also structure. Examining how the structure/agency question is being
addressed through theory and method in intersectional studies has partic-
ular resonance in the study of men and masculinities as we grapple with
critiquing the notion of an homogeneous category of men, and how men are
divided along multiple social categories against the reality of systematic gen-
der inequality (Brittan and Maynard, 1984; Messner, 2003). That is, how to
maintain the tension between an analysis of systemic gendered oppression
and differentiated forms of male power flowing from other social divisions
(Haywood and Mac an Ghaill, 2003).
In a recent contribution to debates about intersectionality and method-
ology Fotopoulou (2012) retraces some of the issues outlined above before
suggesting that an engagement with queer theory may be useful for advanc-
ing intersectional gender studies. This is in light of queer theory’s inherent
concern with de-naturalizing normative categories. That is, notwithstand-
ing ongoing debates and differences within what is a heterogeneous and
contested field, queer theory offers a challenge to the hierarchical and fixed
dichotomizing of heterosexual/homosexual identities whereby the former
is normative and the latter is rendered ‘other’ (Turner, 2000; Halberstam,
2003). In seeking to deconstruct the ‘truth’ of the normative sexual
binary and in arguing for a diverse and complicated range of sexualized
subjectivities, queer theory has obvious convergences with poststructural-
ism (Jagose, 1996). Similarly, as a transgressive project with a political agenda
to denaturalize categories, practices and identities, and the power relations
embedded within them, queer theory shares some epistemic foundations
with feminism, despite a sometimes fraught relationship between the two
fields (Rosenberg, 2008; Showden, 2012). According to Fotopoulou (2012),
there is shared conceptual ground as well between queer and intersectional
theory, and a possibility that methodological advances in both could rest on
a hybridization of both paradigms (see also Rahman, 2010).
What is minimized in Fotopoulou’s (2012) call for a methodological con-
versation between intersectional and queer theorists is that in queer studies,
as in intersectional studies, the proliferation of epistemological and onto-
logical critiques have not been matched by the methodological. There has,
however, been something of a queer methodological turn in the past few
years with two special editions of the publication Graduate Journal of Social
Science (Kulpa and Liinason, 2009), a special edition of Journal of Lesbian
Studies (Ryan-Flood and Rooke, 2009) and an edited collection (Browne and
Nash 2010) on the subject. These have been highly significant interven-
tions in signposting the questions, tensions and possibilities that might arise
when queer theory and methodologies are brought into conversation. For
example, in echoes of Harding’s (1987) earlier question to feminism Browne
and Nash (2010, p. 1) ask as they open their editorial introduction: Is there
such a thing as a queer method/methodology research? If the chapters that
follow are any indication the answer is ‘no’ given the variety of methods
adopted by contributors. Indeed, the vibrancy and diversity of methodolog-
ical approaches that are typically used in queer scholarship including visual
art, creative writing, video diaries (Hemmings and Grace, 1999) is a defin-
ing feature of the field, and one from which critical masculinity studies
might learn. It seems, as Warner (2004, p. 334) answers in reply to an

equivalent question about queer research, ‘There is no one answer’ in terms
of method, but ‘there are some basic heuristics that a queer methodology
should account for’, such as a focus on reflexivity, political change and voice.
It is through a focus on these critical principles that a range of methods from
surveys (Browne, 2007) to cyber-ethnographies (Ashford, 2009) are being
queered.
The methodological debates occurring in queer studies have much to offer
critical masculinities scholarship. This is not just for those of us drawing on
queer theory, but for any of us wanting to connect methodology and epis-
temology. For example, in their editorial introduction to Queer Methodologies
Browne and Nash (2010, p. 1) ask how can we collect data from sub-
jects using ‘standard methods’ when we theorize subjects and subjectivities
as ‘fluid, unstable and perpetually becoming’ and further what ‘meanings
can we draw from, and what use can we make of, such data’? In a series
of autoethnographic vignettes and drawing on queer theory, Adams and
Jones (2011) demonstrate that innovative and creative modes of data acqui-
sition and reporting are required to accommodate understandings of the
situational, multi-dimensional subjectivities of participants and researcher.
A similar anti-foundational logic may need to be applied to representa-
tional strategies as Teman and Lahman (2012) reveal in another queering
of methodologies. Using storytelling and juxtaposing a ‘straight tale’ (tradi-
tional research report), a ‘gay tale’ (experiential research report) and ‘queer
tales’ (poetic interludes), they document a research project of a university’s
lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender centre and the tragic suicide of a
centre student. Across a range of associated contributions writers seeking to
queer methodologies have highlighted other practices which resonate with
a critical study of masculinities. That is, the importance of addressing emo-
tions and erotics in fieldwork (Ryan-Flood, 2009), of attending to the world
views of participants (Holliday, 2001), of attending to the multiplicity of
normative and stigmatized identities such as, examining how lesbian and
gay subjectivities may be privileged over transgender, intersex or transsexual
subjects (Grundy and Smith, 2007; Cardon, 2010).
As evidenced by this necessarily brief discussion what is increasingly rec-
ognized by researchers in the fields of intersectionality and queer studies is
that theory and methodology are deeply interconnected. The central con-
cern of this book is that this is largely not replicated in the field of critical
masculinity studies. As we demonstrated earlier in this chapter in introduc-
ing second-wave feminist critiques of masculinist research practice, this was
not always the case. However, in much contemporary work there is an ongo-
ing fissure between invocations to critical theory, particularly critical gender
theory, and methodology. In the next section we provide a brief overview
of the content of the chapters to follow as they open up a conversation to
bridge this gap.
Overview of the book
The book opens with a chapter by Jeff Hearn who continues his consid-
erable contribution to scholarship on men and masculinities by examin-
ing the efficacy of particular methods for the task of furthering critical
masculinities studies. He provides an overview of interviews, autobiography,
auto ethnography, memory work, textual analysis and re-readings, before
turning to address the relationship between methodologies and broader
epistemological and ontological questions related to men and masculinities.
Jeff’s invocation at the end of the chapter to monitor the direction of
critical men’s studies so that it does not re-centre and reify male power
is addressed by Bob Pease in Chapter 3 as he identifies what it means to
do profeminist research. Drawing upon feminist standpoint theory, Bob
argues that it is possible to construct a profeminist standpoint epistemol-
ogy to interrogate masculinity and male privilege. A profeminist standpoint
includes listening to feminist concerns, engaging in dialogue with women,
developing gender reflexivity and ensuring accountability to women’s inter-
ests. In summary, he argues that a profeminist position involves a concern
with ‘power, privilege and positionality’.
It is the latter issue, that of positionality, which is taken up in Chapter 4
by Tristan Bridges as he traverses some of the vexed ethical and political ter-
rain of his ethnographic research on three different groups of men in the
United States – a profeminist group, a fathers’ rights group and a group of
male bar regulars. Tristan describes engaging a role he labels ‘the least mas-
culine role’ (which he adopts from Mandell 1988) as a performative strategy
which would ensure he didn’t alienate participants but also did not depart
too dramatically from his own masculine biography, values and practices.
This meant, however, that the sexist and/or homophobic speech of research
participants was left unchallenged and also, perhaps unexpectedly, led some
men involved in the research to experience an intimacy with Tristan which
was not reciprocated. Tristan’s honest rendering of the challenges of his
ethnographic work demonstrates that there is nothing straightforward or
uncomplicated about negotiating the field as a male studying men and
masculinities.
Michael Flood, drawing largely on a study of heterosexual men’s social
and sexual relations with women, also places positionality, and, by impli-
cation, power at the centre of his discussion in Chapter 5. In particular, he
grapples with the challenging issue of how to undertake research with men
who express sexist and derogatory views, and he considers the possibilities
and limitations of adopting an interventionist/non-interventionist stance
as a means of interrupting rather than reproducing patriarchal relations.
His reflections reveal that all research decisions are vexed. There is no pure
or objective position wherein we are outside of ethics or power relations.
In light of this conclusion, Michael notes that far more critical reflection
is required about the diversity of ways in which gender is performed in

research, and about how gendered research relationships are affected by the
content and context of the research, and by other social locations besides
gender.
In Chapter 6 Máirtín Mac an Ghaill, Chris Haywood and Zoë Bright exam-
ine Zoë’s experiences of online and face-to-face interviews with men in a
collaborative project about speed dating, bringing at least two new insights
to the literature on cross-gender research encounters. Firstly, the authors
challenge the assumption that researchers should seek closeness with par-
ticipants. Understandably, the predatory and harassing behaviours of some
interviewees cause Zoë to seek distance rather than closeness. Seeking dis-
tance is not straightforward, however, when interviewees engage in complex
language games via metonymy, in order to secure intimacy. A second theme
the authors address and which has often been overlooked as researchers have
reflected on how gender mediates interviews is that research interactions
are not just intersubjective, but embodied; therefore, the size and shape
of our bodies, including the extent to which they conform to or depart
from normalized definitions of femininity and masculinity, will influence
the research relationship.
How research with men about masculinities is shaped according to the
subject under investigation and the participants involved underscores a
number of the chapters, but is brought to the fore in Chapter 7 by Linn
Egeberg Holmgren as she recalls her experiences of interviewing profeminist
men about gender practices and relations. In a nuanced reading of her inter-
view interactions Linn reveals the subtleties of power practices engaged
by the men as they perform masculinity in the research process. As an
illustration, she explains that she received criticism from some intervie-
wees that her approach was ‘too nice’. She contends that in seeking to
elicit personal narratives rather than to test and challenge the men’s fem-
inist credentials, she impeded their performance of a ‘profeminist man’.
This occurs in the context of anxieties of feminist academic colleagues
who warned her not to be ‘too nice’ in interviews and therefore not suffi-
ciently critical of the operations of power in the interview. What emerges
from Linn’s analysis is that gendered power as manifest in research relation-
ships is incredibly complex in that it may be simultaneously resisted and
reproduced.
In Chapter 8 Romit Dasgupta reports on masculinity research with men in
two different large organizations in northern Japan. In this chapter he con-
tributes to epistemological and methodological debates about the researcher
as ‘insider’ (someone who shares the identity, values and experiences of their
study participants) and the researcher as ‘outsider’ (someone who shares no
or limited commonality with research participants), but does so through the
particular lens of critical masculinity studies. Romit cannot locate himself
in terms of a dichotomous positioning of insider or outsider and instead
engages the rubric of ‘halfie’ from Abu-Lughod (1991, p. 137) to describe

his experience of shifting and multiple research identities. He was famil-
iar with the area in which he undertook fieldwork and had existing social
networks there which facilitated access and rapport, but this also made
addressing more intimate subjects of inquiry difficult. Romit describes nego-
tiating the intersecting identities of ‘friend’ and ‘researcher’ and how this
shaped the knowledge he produced about Japanese masculinities. As such,
he echoes Acker’s (2000) contention that instead of continuing to discuss
researcher identity in terms of insider or outsider, it may be more produc-
tive to explore the tensions across and between these always changing and
nuanced research subject positions.
In the following chapter Roger Patulny and Barbara Pini shift the
focus from qualitative research on men and masculinities to quantitative
approaches to the subject. They overview the feminist literature that has
considered the politics of counting, noting that more recent feminist work
has sought to rehabilitate quantitative methods for feminism rather than
simply dismiss such methods. They then turn to a quantitative study exam-
ining gendered social connections through the purview of social exclusion.
The authors detail some of the data emerging from the study, noting the
efficacy of numbers for addressing social policy issues and gaining a public
profile for gender equity. At the same time the lack of context in the picture
emerging from the quantitative approach remains a key limitation for gen-
der researchers seeking a holistic and nuanced understanding of gendered
experiences of social exclusion. They conclude by suggesting that there is
much to be gained if critical masculinity scholars reject methodological
paradigm wars and instead focus energies on asking how both quantita-
tive and qualitative methods can be best utilized for addressing gender
injustice.
In Chapter 10 we take a leap from regression analysis to rock climbing
as Victoria Robinson revisits previous ethnographic fieldwork on the sub-
ject through a critical methodological lens. Victoria questions how we can
study/access masculinities as fluid, potentially contradictory, contextualized
and plural. In this regard she explains that the notion of ‘mundane extrem-
ities’ was useful – a concept that recognizes the connections between the
everyday and the extreme (in terms of participation in rock climbing) as well
as the shifts and ruptures in definitions and experiences of the everyday and
extreme. Alongside this discussion the chapter problematizes the potential
of reflexivity as a tool for masculine identity transformation and suggests the
usefulness of incorporating women’s perspectives into the study of men and
masculinities. In the final section of the chapter Victoria uses her multiple
relationships to rock climbing (as a lapsed rock climber and a former part-
ner of a rock climber) as an interpretive framework to contribute to debates
about the constraining and illuminating impact of being an insider and/or
outsider in research.
As foregrounded earlier in the chapter, questions of how to research the

category of ‘woman’ as co-constituted with other social categories, such as
class, ageing, ethnicity, disability and sexuality have been brought to the
fore in recent feminist work, but no equivalent methodological discussion
has been had about how to de-essentialize critical studies of men and mas-
culinity. In this respect Dan Goodley and Catherine Cole offer an important
contribution in Chapter 11, as they report on research with five disabled
men and one father of a disabled child to identify methodological questions
which arise in troubling not just masculinity but also disability as unitary
categories. These include whether the non-disabled can conduct disabil-
ity research, how to address ableism and impairment along with disability
and how to attend to the centrality of embodiment. Also critical, they sug-
gest, is adopting methodologies which recognize and celebrate experimental
and transgressive narratives of disability and masculinity and incorporate
a sensitivity to normative desires. Political imperatives embedded in these
questions are not only about research for gender equality, but also about
disrupting ableism or engaging in research which is ‘enabling not disabling’
(Barnes and Mercer, 1997, p. 10).
It is also a particular group of men and the politics of studying this group
which is of concern to Mike Donaldson and Scott Poynting in Chapter 12.
However, in this case it is ruling-class men. While textual analysis has been
widely used in studies of men and masculinities, with a wide range of
texts from film and television to novels and poetry utilized in the process,
biographies and autobiographies have been rarely exploited by critical mas-
culinity researchers. The authors argue that biographies and autobiographies
can be seen to elicit life histories of a population that might otherwise be
inaccessible, despite charting some of the gaps in their approach includ-
ing, for example, their reliance on English language sources. At the same
time, like other critical masculinity researchers interested in quite disparate
groups of men, such as Gorman-Murray (2007) who has used autobiograph-
ical narratives to understand the lives of marginalized gay men, the authors
demonstrate the efficacy of their sources for unobtrusively revealing the way
masculine identities are constituted through the life-course.
Further insights into the methodological complexities of studying ruling-
class men are presented in Chapter 13 as Sebastián Madrid describes his
experience undertaking life history interviews with such men in Chile. The
starting point of Sebastián’s methodological discussion is his conceptual
framing of the notion of ‘ruling class’, which he understands as a group
which has access to power and privilege, and which shares similar kinds of
practices, but importantly, is also a heterogeneous network of people. For
example, adopting an understanding of class as relational and contextual
necessitates including women in his sample as much as it does focusing on
ruling-class men’s different configurations of masculinities. In elaborating
on his interview encounters, Sebastián questions assumptions that suggest
studying elites always involves a power imbalance, and instead illustrates the
shifting and situated nature of power in his own research relationships and
the agency of the interviewer in mediating power dynamics.
While Sebastián’s methodological reflections emerge from his doctoral
study which signals his beginning foray into the study of men and
masculinities, in Chapter 14 Malcolm Cowburn draws on a decade of experi-
ence involved in the field of critical masculinities research. At the same time
he demonstrates that complex ethical issues don’t diminish over time, par-
ticularly if, like Malcolm, one is negotiating the complex terrain of studying
men who commit interpersonal violence against women, children and other
men. The chapter politicizes the language of interview exchanges, the place
of emotion in research, claims to confidentiality and the process of dissem-
inating research findings. A further subject politicized in the chapter, and
one requiring much further attention, is that of how different members of
a research team (such as transcribers and research assistants) studying men
and masculinities are treated, valued and supported.
Vexed methodological questions surrounding research on men who per-
petuate violence against women is further addressed in Chapter 15 by Lucas
Gottzen. Lucas frames his research experience by using Sara Ahmed’s (2000)
deconstruction of the production and embodiment of the stranger. He notes
how the very subject of violence against women is strange to him before
detailing some of his research encounters which demonstrate his negoti-
ations around making the strange familiar and the familiar strange. For
example, he wonders how he can tell the stories of violent men in a manner
which does not render them so strange that other practices and discourses
of patriarchy (including those of male researchers) are obscured. At the same
time, familiarity generates a different set of problems as Lucas describes how
he identified with one participant, Filip, who is from a similar social loca-
tion and who elicits his sympathy in expressing remorse for his violence.
Ultimately, if research with violent men is to meet the ethical and political
imperatives of profeminism it appears that a more deft approach than one
based on simple dichotomies is required.
In Chapter 16 Kip Jones and Lee-Ann Fenge examine the potential of
group experiences for involving older gay men in research. The authors
describe two different projects. The first used participatory action research
to examine the experience of ageing for older lesbian women and gay
men, while the second focused on how ‘coming out’ narratives are used to
negotiate identity over the life course. In both of the studies the opportu-
nity to meet, share, reflect and work together as a group generated a high
level of engagement among participants – thus demonstrating the impor-
tance of more innovative and creative methodological approaches to further
knowledge of men and masculinities.
The need to expand our repertoire as researchers of men and masculinities
is a theme taken up by Miranda Leontowitsch in Chapter 17 as she recounts
using information and communication technologies (ICTs) to interview
older men. Miranda compares the strengths and limitations of using Instant
Messaging compared with email to interview the male participants of her
study, highlighting issues of power, hierarchy and control in the research
relationship. As the author acknowledges, the use of ICTs for research on
masculinities is still in its infancy, but she offers preliminary insights into
the dynamics of the online interview as an intersubjective experience, while
pondering the potential of ICTS for research with hard-to-reach populations
of men.
Like Miranda, Cliona Barnes in Chapter 18 introduces us to a newer
methodological approach in the study of men and masculinities, that of
participatory visual research methods. While the method is original, Cliona
faces familiar challenges in terms of positionality as a female researcher
working with young school-aged males. At the same time, she is positive
about the approach as a means to give voice to young men’s own experi-
ences and interpretations of their lives. This occurs as the young men are
given cameras to photograph what they consider representative of contem-
porary youth masculinity and then invited to explain their selections as part
of broader focus group discussions. The research counters orthodoxies which
suggest that young men are inarticulate and/or unwilling to be self-reflexive
about their lives, and instead indicates that involving boys and men in crit-
ical research on masculinity may require us to be more inventive in our use
of methods.
As is always the case with an edited volume – especially on a subject that
has been so little addressed – we recognize there is much that is not addressed
in this volume. Our hope therefore is that this book will become a small
part of what will be a much larger, vibrant and ongoing conversation about
undertaking critical masculinity research.
References
Abu-Lughod, L. (1991) ‘Writing Against Culture’ in R.G. Fox (ed.) Recapturing Anthro-
pology: Working in the Present (Santa Fe, New Mexico: School of American Research
Press).
Acker, S. (2000) ‘In/out/side: Positioning the Researcher in Feminist Qualitative
Research’, Resources for Feminist Research, 28, 189–210.
Adams, T.E. and S.H. Jones (2011) ‘Telling Stories: Reflexivity, Queer Theory and
Autoethnography’, Cultural Studies, 11, 108–116.
Ahmed, S. (2000) Strange Encounters: Embodied Others in Post-Coloniality (London:
Routledge).
Al-Makhamreh, S.S. and G. Lewando-Hundt (2008) ‘Researching “at home” as an
Insider/Outsider: Gender and Culture in an Ethnographic Study of Social Work
Practice in an Arab Society’, Qualitative Social Work, 7, 9–23.
Arendell, T. (1997) ‘Reflections on the Researcher-Researched Relationship: A Woman
Interviewing Men’, Qualitative Sociology, 20, 341–368.
Ashford, C. (2009) ‘Queer Theory, Cyber-ethnographies and Researching Online
Sex Environments’, Information and Communications Technology Law, 18,
297–314.
Bagilhole, B. and S. Cross (2006) ‘ “It Never Struck me as Female”: Investigating Men’s
Entry Into Female-Dominated Occupations’, Journal of Gender Studies, 15, 35–48.
Bain, Alison L. (2009) ‘Masculinism’ in R. Kitchin and N. Thrift (eds) International
Encyclopaedia of Human Geography Volume 1 (Oxford: Elsevier).
Barnes, C. and G. Mercer (1997) ‘Breaking the Mould?’ in C. Barnes and G. Mercer
(eds) Doing Disability Research (Leeds: Disability Press).
Beasley, C. (2012) ‘Problematising Contemporary Men/Masculinities Theorising’,
British Journal of Sociology, 63, 747–765.
Benhabib, S. (1991) ‘Feminism and Postmodernism: An Uneasy Alliance’, Praxis
International, 11, 137–149.
Bilge, S. (2009) ‘Smuggling Intersectionality into the Study of Masculinity: Some
Methodological Challenges’, Paper Presented, Feminist Research Methods: An Inter-
national Conference, University of Stockholm, 4–9 February.
Bowles, G. and R. Duelli Klein (eds) (1983) Theories of Women’s Studies (London:
Routledge and Kegan Paul).
Bredstrom, A. (2006) ‘Intersectionality: A Challenge for Feminist HIV/AIDS Research?’,
European Journal of Women’s Studies, 13, 229–243.
Brittan, A. and M. Maynard (1984) Sexism, Racism and Oppression (Oxford: Blackwell).
Broom, A., K. Hand and P. Tovey (2009) ‘The Role of Gender, Environment and Indi-
vidual Biography in Shaping Qualitative Interview Data’, International Journal of
Social Research Methodology, 12, 51–65.
Brown, S. (2010) ‘What Makes Men Talk About Health?’ Journal of Gender Studies, 10,
187–195.
Browne, K. (2007) ‘Selling My Queer Soul or Queerying Quantitative Research?’,
Sociological Research Online, 13, http:/www.socresonline.org.uk/13/1/11.thml.
Browne, K and C.J. Nash (2010) ‘Queer Methods and Methodologies: An Introduction’
in K. Browne and C.J. Nash (eds) Queer Methods and Methodologies: Intersecting Queer
Theories and Social Science Research (Aldershot: Ashgate).
Bryant, L. and E. Hoon (2006) ‘How Can the Intersections Between Gender, Class and
Sexuality Be Translated to an Empirical Agenda?’, International Journal of Qualitative
Methods, 5, 1–12.
Bryant, L. and B. Pini (2011) Gender and Rurality (London and New York: Routledge).
Butera, K.J. (2006) ‘Manhunt: The Challenge of Enticing Men to Participate in a Study
on Friendship’, Qualitative Inquiry, 12, 1262–1282.
Butler, J. (1990) Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (London:
Routledge).
Campbell, E. (2003) ‘Interviewing Men in Uniform: A Feminist Approach?’ Interna-
tional Journal of Social Research Methodology, 6, 285–304.
Cardon, P. (2010) ‘Post-queer: In Defense of a “Trans-Gender Approach” or Trans-
Gender as an Analytical Category’, Diogenes, 57, 138–150.
Christensen, A and S.Q. Jensen (2012) ‘Doing Intersectional Analysis: Methodological
Implications for Qualitative Research’, NORA – Nordic Journal of Feminist and Gender
Research, 20, 109–125.
Clatterbaugh, K. (1990) Contemporary Perspectives on Masculinity: Men, Women and
Politics in Modern Society (Colorado and Oxford: Westview Press).
Collins, P. (1991) Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness and the Politics of
Empowerment (London: Unwin Hyman).
Connell, R. (1995) Masculinities, 2nd edn (Sydney: Allen and Unwin).
Connell, R. (2007) ‘Masculinities, Power and the Epidemic: Messages of Social
Research’, Paper Presented at Politicizing Masculinities: Beyond the Personal (an
international symposium linking lessons from HIV, sexuality and reproductive

health with other areas for rethinking AIDS, gender and development), 15–18
October, Dakar, Senegal.
Cowburn, M. (2005) ‘Confidentiality and Public Protection: Ethical Dilemmas in
Qualitative Research with Adult Sex Offenders’, Journal of Sexual Aggression, 11,
49–63.
Cowburn, M. (2007) ‘Men Researching Men in Prison: The Challenges for Profeminist
Research’, The Howard Journal, 46, 276–288.
Crenshaw, K. (1991) ‘Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and
Violence Against Women of Color’, Stanford Law Review, 43, 1241–1299.
Cummerton, J.M. (1986) ‘A Feminist Perspective on Research: What Does it Help us
See?’ in N.V.D. Bergh and L.B. Cooper (eds) Feminist Visions for Social Work (Silver
Springs: National Association of Social Workers).
Cunningham-Burley, S. (1984) ‘ “We Don’t Talk About It . . . ”: Issues of Gender and
Method in the Portrayal of Grand-fatherhood’, Sociology, 18, 325–338.
Curato, N. (2010) ‘Addressing the Absence of Masculine-Sensitive Research Methods’,
Philippine Social Sciences Review, 62, 245–275.
Davidson, K. (2007) ‘Methodological Instability and the Disruption of Masculinities
in Postmodern Times’, Men and Masculinities, 9, 379–391.
Delamont, S. and P. Atkinson (2008) ‘Editors’ Introduction’ in S. Delamont and
P. Atkinson (eds) Gender and Research, Volume 1 (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage).
Demetriou, D. (2001) ‘Connell’s Concept of Hegemonic Masculinity: A Critique’,
Theory and Society, 30, 337–361.
Edwards, R. (1990) ‘Connecting Method and Epistemology: A White Woman Inter-
viewing Black Women’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 13, 477–490.
Finzsch, N. (2011) ‘Historical Masculinities as Intersectional Problem’, Gender
Forum: An Internet Journal for Gender Studies, 32, http://www.genderforum.org/
issues/historical-masculinities-as-an-intersectional-problem/editorial/date accessed
15 June 2012.
Flood, M. (1997) ‘Doing Research on Men as Men: Politics and Problems’, Paper
Presented to the Masculinities: Renegotiating Genders Conference, University of
Wollongong, 20 June.
Fotopoulou, A. (2012) ‘Intersectionality Queer Studies and Hybridity: Methodolog-
ical Frameworks for Social Research’, Journal of International Women’s Studies, 13,
19–32.
Gailey, J.A. and A. Prohaska (2011) ‘Power and Gender Negotiations During Inter-
views with Men About Sex and Sexually Degrading Practices’, Qualitative Research,
11, 365–380.
Garg, A. (2005) ‘Interview Reflections: A First Generation Migrant Indian Woman
Researcher Interviewing a First Generation Migrant Indian Man’, Journal of Gender
Studies, 14, 147–152.
Gatrell, C. (2006) ‘Interviewing Fathers: Feminist Dilemmas in Fieldwork’, Journal of
Gender Studies, 15, 237–251.
Gill, F. and C. Maclean (2002) ‘Knowing Your Place: Gender and Reflexivity in Two
Ethnographies’, Sociological Research Online, 7 (2). http://www.socresonline.org.uk/
7/2/gill.html date accessed 10 July 2012.
Golombisky, K. (2006) ‘Gendering the Interview: Feminist Reflections on Gender as
Performance in Research’, Women’s Studies in Communication, 29, 165–192.
Gorman-Murray, A. (2007) ‘Sexy Stories – Using Autobiography in Geographies of
Sexuality’, Qualitative Research Journal, 7, 3–25.
Green, G., R.S. Barbour, M. Barnard and J. Kitzinger (1993) ‘ “Who Wears the
Trousers?” Sexual Harassment in Research Settings’, Women’s Studies International
Forum, 16, 627–637.
Grundy, J. and M. Smith (2007) ‘Activist Knowledges and Queer Politics’, Economy and
Society, 36, 294–317.
Halberstam, J. (2003) ‘Reflections on Queer Studies and Queer Pedagogy ’, Journal of
Homosexuality, 45, 361–364.
Hankivsky, O., et al. (2010) ‘Exploring the Promises of Intersectionality for Advancing
Women’s Health Research’, International Journal for Equity in Health, 9, 1–15.
Harding, S. (1986) The Science Question in Feminism (New York: Routledge).
Harding, S. (1987) ‘Introduction: Is There a Feminist Method?’ in S. Harding (ed.)
Feminism and Methodology (Bloomington: Indiana University Press).
Haywood, C. and M. Mac an Ghaill (2003) Men and Masculinities: Theory, Research and
Practice (Buckingham: Open University Press).
Hearn, J. (1996) ‘Is Masculinity Dead? A Critique of the Concept of Masculin-
ity/Masculinities’ in M. Mac an Ghaill (ed.) Understanding Masculinities: Social
Relations and Cultural Arenas (Buckingham: Open University Press).
Hearn, J. (1998) The Violences of Men: How Men Talk About and How Agencies Respond to
Men’s Violence to Women (London: Sage).
Hearn, J. (2004) ‘From Hegemonic Masculinity to the Hegemony of Men’, Feminist
Theory, 5, 49–72.
Hearn, J. (2007) ‘Methods, Methodology and Research’ in M. Flood, J. Gardiner,
B. Pease and K. Pringle (eds) International Encyclopedia of Men and Masculinities
(New York: Routledge).
Hearn, J. (2009) ‘Patriarchies, Transpatriarchies and Intersectionalities’ in E. Oleksy
(ed.) Gender and Intimate Citizenships: Politics, Sexualities and Subjectivity (London:
Routledge).
Hemmings, C. and F. Grace (1999) ‘Stretching Queer Boundaries: An Introduction’,
Sexualities, 2, 387–396.
Holliday, R. (2001) ‘We’ve Been Framed: Visualising Methodology’, The Sociological
Review, 48, 503–521.
Holmgren, L.E. (2009) ‘Situational Studies of Men and Masculinities: Approaches and
Concepts in Exploring Empirical Relations’, unpublished paper, Uppsala University,
Sweden.
Holmgren, L.E. (2011) ‘Cofielding in Qualitative Interviews: Gender, Knowledge, and
Interaction in the Study of (Pro)Feminist Men’, Qualitative Inquiry, 17, 364–378.
Hooper, C. (2001) Manly States: Masculinities, International Relations and Gender Politics
(New York: Columbia University Press).
Hopkins, P. and G. Noble (2009) ‘Masculinities in Place: Situated Identities, Relations
and Intersectionality’, Social and Cultural Geography, 10, 811–819.
Horn, R. (1997) ‘Not “One of the Boys”: Women Researching the Police’, Journal of
Hughes, C. and R.L. Cohen (2011) Feminism Counts: Quantitative Methods and Research-
ing Gender (New York: Routledge).
Jackson, D. (1990) Unmasking Masculinity: A Critical Autobiography (London: Unwin
Hyman).
Jagose, A. (1996) Queer Theory (Melbourne: University of Melbourne Press).
Jones, M. (1996) ‘Men and Feminist Research’ in J. Pilcher and A. Coffee (eds) Gender
and Qualitative Research (Aldershot: Avebury).
Kremer, B. (1990) ‘Learning to Say No: Keeping Feminist Research Methods for
Ourselves’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 13, 463–467.
Kulpa, R and M. Liinason (2009) ‘Queer Studies: Methodological Approaches. Follow

Up’, Graduate Journal of Social Science, 6, 1–2.
Lather, P. (1991) Getting Smart: Feminist Research and Pedagogy Within/In the Postmodern
(London: Routledge).
Lather, P. (2006) ‘(Post)Feminist Methodology: Getting Lost OR a Scientificity We Can
Bear to Learn From’, Paper Presented at the ESRC Research Methods Festival, Oxford,
17–20 July.
Lawson, V. (1995) ‘The Politics of Difference: Examining the Quantitative/Qualitative
Dualism in Post-Structuralist Feminist Research’, Professional Geographer, 47, 449-57.
Lee, D. (1997) ‘Interviewing Men: Vulnerabilities and Dilemmas’, Women’s Studies
International Forum, 20, 553–564.
Lewis, G. (2009) ‘Celebrating Intersectionality? Debates on a Multi-faceted Concept in
Gender Studies: Themes from a Conference’, Open Research Online, 16, 1–7.
Liinason, M. and R. Kulpa (2009) ‘Queer Studies: Methodological Approaches’,
Graduate Journal of Social Science, 5, 1–4.
Livholts, M. (ed.) (2011) Emergent Writing Methodologies in Feminist Studies (London
and New York: Routledge).
Longhurst, R. (1996) ‘Refocusing Groups: Pregnant Women’s Geographical Experi-
ences of Hamilton, New Zealand/Aotearoa’, Area, 28, 143–149.
Ludvig, A. (2006) ‘Difference Between Women? Intersecting Voices in a Female
Narrative’, European Journal of Women’s Studies 13, 245–286.
Lumsden, K. (2009) ‘ “Don’t Ask a Woman to Do Another Woman’s Job”: Gendered
Interactions and the Emotional Ethnographer’, Sociology, 43, 497–513.
Macleod, C. (2007) ‘The Risk of Phallocentrism in Masculinities Studies: How a
Revision of the Concept of Patriarchy May Help’, PINS, 35, 4–17.
Mandell, N. (1988) ‘The Least-Adult Role in Studying Children’, Journal of Contempo-
rary Ethnography, 16, 433–467.
Manderson, L., E. Bennett and S. Andajani-Sutjahjo (2006) ‘The Social Dynamics of
the Interview: Age, Class and Gender’, Qualitative Health Research, 16, 1317–1334.
McCall, L. (2005) ‘The Complexity of Intersectionality’, Signs: Journal of Women in
Culture and Society, 30, 1771–1800.
McCready, L.T. (2010) Making Space for Diverse Masculinities: Difference, Intersectionality,
and Engagement in an Urban High School (New York: Peter Lang).
McDowell, L. (1998) ‘Elites in the City of London: Some Methodological Considera-
tions,’ Environment and Planning A, 30, 2133–2146.
McDowell, L. (2008) ‘Thinking Through Work: Complex Inequalities, Construc-
tions of Difference and Trans-national Migrants’, Progress in Human Geography, 32,
491–507.
McKeganey, N. and M. Bloor (1991) ‘Spotting the Invisible Man: The Influence of Male
Gender on Fieldwork Relations’, British Journal of Sociology, 42, 195–210.
Mellstrom, U. (2003) Masculinity, Power and Technology: A Malaysian Ethnography
(Aldershot: Ashgate).
Messner, M. (2003) ‘Men as Superordinates’, in M. Kimmel and A. Ferber (eds) Privilege:
A Reader (Boulder: Westview Press).
Monro, S. (2010) ‘Sexuality, Space and Intersectionality: The Case of Lesbian, Gay and
Bisexual Equalities Initiatives in UK Local Government’, Sociology, 44, 996–1010.
Morgan, D. (1981) ‘Men, Masculinity and the Process of Sociological Inquiry’ in
H. Roberts (ed.) Doing Feminist Research (London: Routledge).
Morgan, D. (1992) Discovering Men (London: Routledge).
Moss, P. (ed.) (2002) Feminist Geography in Practice: Research and Methods
(Massachusetts: Blackwell).
Nare, L. (2010) ‘Sri Lankan Men Working as Cleaners and Carers: Negotiating
Masculinity in Naples’, Men and Masculinities, 13, 65–86.
Nilan, P. (1995) ‘Masculinity as Social Practice and Cultural “Becoming” ’, Journal of
Interdisciplinary Gender Studies, 1, 57–69.
Oakley, A. (1981) ‘Interviewing Women: A Contradiction in Terms’ in H. Roberts (ed.)
Doing Feminist Research (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul).
Pease, B. (2000) Recreating Men: Postmodern Masculinity Politics (London: Sage).
Pease, B. (2001) ‘Theoretical and Political Dilemmas in Working With Men’ in B. Pease
and P. Camilleri (eds) Working With Men in the Human Services (Sydney: Allen and
Unwin).
Peplau, L. and E. Conrad (1989) ‘Beyond Nonsexist Research: The Perils of Feminist
Methods in Psychology’, Psychology of Women Quarterly, 13, 379–400.
Philaretou, A. and K. Allen (2006) ‘Researching Sensitive Topics Through
Autoethnographic Means’, The Journal of Men’s Studies, 14, 65–78.
Pini, B. (2002) ‘Focus Groups and Farm Women: Opportunities for Empowerment in
Rural Social Research’, Journal of Rural Studies, 18, 330–351.
Pini, B. (2004) ‘On Being a Nice Country Girl and an Academic Feminist: Using
Reflexivity in Rural Social Research’, Journal of Rural Studies, 20, 169–179.
Pini, B. (2005) ‘Interviewing Men: Gender and the Collection and Interpretation of
Qualitative Data’, Journal of Sociology, 41, 201–216.
Popoviciu, L., C. Haywood and M. Mac an Ghaill (2006) ‘The Promise of Post-
Structuralist Methodology: Ethnographic Representation of Education and Mas-
culinity’, Ethnography and Education, 1, 393–412.
Probyn, E. (1993) Sexing the Self: Gendered Positions in Cultural Studies (Routledge:
London).
Rahman, M. (2010) ‘Queer as Intersectionality: Theorizing Gay Muslim Identities’,
Sociology, 44, 944–961.
Reich, J.A. (2008) ‘Not Ready to Fill His Father’s Shoes: A Masculinist Discourse of
Abortion’, Men and Masculinities, 11, 3–21.
Riley, S., W. Schouten and S. Cahill (2003) ‘Exploring the Dynamics of Subjectivity
and Power Between Researcher and Researched’, Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 4
(2) http://www.qualitative-research.net/fqs date accessed 12 July 2012.
Roberts, H. (ed.) (1981) Doing Feminist Research (London: Routledge).
Robinson, V. (2010) ‘Researching Everyday Sporting Masculinities: Thoughts From a
(Critical) Distance’, Journal of Gender Studies, 19, 309–313.
Rosenberg, T. (2008) ‘Locally Queer: A Note on the Feminist Genealogy of Queer
Theory’, Graduate Journal of Social Science, 5, 5–18.
Ryan-Flood, R. (2009) ‘Queering Representation: Ethics and Visibility in Research’,
Journal of Lesbian Studies, 13, 216–228.
Ryan-Flood, R. and A. Rooke (2009) ‘Que(e)rying Methodology: Lessons and
Dilemmas from Lesbian Lives: An Introduction’, Journal of Lesbian Studies, 13,
115–121.
Sallee, M.W. and F. Harris (2011) ‘Gender Performance in Qualitative Studies of
Masculinities’, Qualitative Research, 11, 409–429.
Schacht, S. (1997) ‘Feminist Fieldwork in the Misogynist Setting of the Rugby
Pitch: Temporarily Becoming a Sylph to Survive and Personally Grow’, Journal of
Contemporary Ethnography, 26, 338–363.
Schwalbe, M. and M. Wolkomir (2003) ‘Interviewing Men’ in J. Holstein and
J. Gubrium (eds) Inside Interviewing: New Lenses, New Concerns (Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage).
Scott, J. (2010) ‘Quantitative Methods and Gender Inequalities’, International Journal

of Social Research Methodology, 13, 223–236.
Showden, C.R. (2012) ‘Theorising Maybe: A Feminist/Queer Theory Convergence’,
Feminist Theory, 13, 3–25.
Shuttleworth, R., N. Wedgwood and N.J. Wilson (2012) ‘The Dilemma of Disabled
Masculinity’, Men and Masculinities, 15, 174–194.
Skelton, C. (1998) ‘Feminism and Research into Masculinities and Schooling’, Gender
and Education, 10, 217–227.
Song, M. and D. Parker (1995) ‘Commonality, Difference and the Dynamics of
Disclosure in In-Depth Interviewing’, Sociology, 29, 241–256.
Stanley, L. and S. Wise (1983) ‘Back Into the Personal or: Our Attempt to Construct
Feminist Research’ in G. Bowles and R. Duelli Klein (eds) Theories of Women’s Studies
(London: Routledge and Kegan Paul).
St Pierre, E.A. and W.S. Pillow (2000) Working the Ruins: Feminist Post-Structural Theory
and Methods in Education (Routledge: New York).
Sundberg, J. (2003) ‘Masculinist Epistemologies and the Politics of Fieldwork in Latin
Americanist Geography’, The Professional Geographer, 55, 180–190.
Teman, E.D. and M.K.E. Lahman (2012) ‘Broom Closet or Fish Bowl? An Ethnographic
Exploration of a University Queer Centre and Oneself’, Qualitative Inquiry, 18,
341–354.
Turner, W. (2000) A Genealogy of Queer Theory (Philadelphia: Temple University Press).
Valentine, G. (2007) ‘Theorizing and Researching Intersectionality: A Challenge for
Feminist Geography’, The Professional Geographer, 59, 10–21.
Valentine, G., et al. (2010) ‘Emplacements: The Event as a Prism for Exploring
Intersectionality; A Case Study of the Lambeth Conference’, Sociology, 44, 925–943.
Vanderbeck, R.M. (2005) ‘Masculinities and Fieldwork: Widening the Discussion’,
Gender, Place and Culture, 12, 387–402.
Walby, K. (2010) ‘Interviews as Encounters: Issues of Sexuality and Reflexivity When
Men Interview Men about Commercial Same Sex Relations’, Qualitative Research, 10,
639–657.
Walby, S. (2009) Globalization and Inequalities: Complexity and Contested Modernities
(London: Sage).
Warner, D.W. (2004) ‘Towards a Queer Research Methodology’, Qualitative Research in
Psychology, 1, 321–337
Weeks, J. (1996) ‘Telling Stories about Men’, Sociological Review, 44, 746–756.
Whorley, M. and M. Addis (2006) ‘Ten Years of Psychological Research on Men and
Masculinity in the United States: Dominant Methodological Trends’, Sex Roles, 55,
649–658.
Williams, C.L. and E.J. Heikes (1993) ‘The Importance of Researcher’s Gender in the
In-depth Interview: Evidence From Two Case Studies of Male Nurses’, Gender and
Society, 7, 280–291.
Winker, G. and N. Degele (2011) ‘Intersectionality as Multi-level Analysis: Dealing
with Social Inequality’, European Journal of Women’s Studies, 18, 51–66.
Yeon Choo, H and M.M. Ferree (2010) ‘Practicing Intersectionality in Sociological
Research: A Critical Analysis of Inclusions, Interactions, and Institutions in the
Study of Inequalities’, Sociological Theory, 28, 129–149.
2
Methods and Methodologies
in Critical Studies on Men
and Masculinities
Jeff Hearn
Introduction
There is nothing new or intrinsically ‘good’ or ‘bad’ about studying men

and masculinities: ‘it ain’t what you do, it’s the way that you do it.’ Doing
Critical Studies on Men and Masculinities (CSMM) presents continuities and
discontinuities with other research approaches, both non-feminist and fem-
inist. Studying men raises recurring issues of methods and methodology.
Many different research methods have been used in these studies, including
social surveys; statistical analyses; ethnographies; interviews; memory work;
qualitative, discursive, deconstructive, textual and visual analyses; as well as
mixed methods.
Methodology refers to the framework or logic or relations between dif-
ferent elements in the research process. In many ways, methodology can
be seen as the link between research methods and broader theoretical
questions of epistemology and ontology. These include epistemological
assumptions; the impact of who is researching, with what prior knowl-
edge and positionality; the relevance of specific topics studied; and relations
between those studying and the men studied. The gendering of epistemol-
ogy has tremendous implications for rethinking the position and historical
dominance of men in academia and how this structures what counts as
knowledge.
Feminist research has highlighted the significance of intersectional power
relations throughout the research process, and all of its aspects and ‘stages’.
These include questions of epistemology, location, ethics, reflexivity, rela-
tions between researchers and researched, and emotions in research. Such
methodological issues apply to research on men and masculinities (Morgan,
1981; Hearn, 1998a). Methods and methodologies in researching men and
masculinities can be re-theorized and re-practised.
26
Jeff Hearn 27
Rethinking and re-practising methods
In much of the growing research literature on men and masculinities, there

has been a clear focus on qualitative methods. Schrock and Schwalbe (2009,
p. 279) suggest that ‘qualitative methods provide the best insight into
how men present themselves as gendered beings’. Accordingly, they argue
‘survey-based approaches tend to reify masculinity, treating it as a static
psychological trait’ (Schrock and Schwalbe, 2009, p. 279). While this lat-
ter judgement may be premature – indeed, quantitative research is especially
important in studies on health, violence, income and many other areas –
qualitative studies have been highly influential in CSMM. Here I review some
such methods; this selection is inevitably limited but gives some idea of the
range of current debates on qualitative methods in CSMM.
Interviews and interviewing

When interviewing men within the framework of CSMM, the process of
interviewing has to be rethought. Feminist research has made clear the
possibilities of women interviewing women with empathy, solidarity and
even friendship. Subsequent debates noted some difficulties in too simple
an approach to women interviewing women, for example, around divisions
between women rather than commonalities between women. Interviewing
men complicates these questions further. Above all, there is the question of
whether men attempt to seek equality, even empathy, or critical distance in
the interview.
In interviewing, as with other methods, the subject positions of
researchers are likely to be intersectionally different for women as well as
for men. Women are researching in relation to another object, ‘men’; men
are doing so in relation to a similar object, a category of which they are
part. When men are interviewing men within the context of CSMM, it is
necessary to draw on several models of interviewing, including feminist,
peer interviewing and, specifically, profeminist models. Men interviewers
may empathize with men interviewees; they also need to be aware of dif-
ferences, such as class and race. They have to be careful to be aware of how
the fact of both parties being men may mean shared assumptions operate.
For men to critically interview men is likely to be a contradictory process –
necessitating politeness and respect, avoidance of collusion, and even use of
control, firmness and authority in the interview. Perhaps a relevant compari-
son is feminist researchers interviewing anti-feminist women. Other possible
modes are co-interviewing by women and men together, and use of focus
groups (Allen, 2005).
Schwalbe and Wolkomir (2001, 2002) have suggested key issues to be
borne in mind when interviewing men, and their possible (stereotypi-
cal) anxieties and defensiveness. Interviews can represent both threats and
opportunities to men interviewees, leading onto strategies for productive
28 Methods and Methodologies in Critical Studies
interviews, especially in terms of control, emotions, emphasis on rationality,

and possible uses, and dangers, of (male) bonding. Seen thus, interviews can
themselves be a site for reproducing, or challenging, men and masculinities.
A key general issue for both women and men is what extent to rely on
conventional gender self-presentations in gaining research access to and
in interviewing men, and in conducting ethnography, especially in misog-
ynist or aggressive settings (Schacht, 1997). Indeed, carrying out longer
term ethnography and participant observation in men’s domains is likely
to heighten some of the challenges of researching men and masculinities
(Tallberg, 2009).
These issues are especially important in conducting research on
men’s dominance, for example, men’s violence to women and children.
In researching men who have been violent to known women, all ‘stages’ of
research need to be rethought critically (Hearn, 1998b). When I first began
such direct empirical work in the United Kingdom in the early 1990s, this
applied in definite ways even though it could not be read about in text-
books, feminist or non-feminist. This led the research team to develop our
own guidelines on many issues (Hearn et al., 1993). For example, confi-
dentiality and anonymity may be given unconditionally in much research,
but when interviewing men who had been violent to women the research
team decided on a different formulation of the confidentiality rule, mainly
for reasons of safety. The notion of confidentiality is socially constructed,
with quite different meanings to different occupational groups and inter-
ested parties, for example, police, doctors, solicitors, social workers and/or
counsellors. Our formulation was not to give unconditional confidentiality
but to say and write to interviewees that this was ‘a confidential research
interview’ but that this was conducted ‘within the limits of the law’. This
was not a perfect way of ‘doing confidentiality’, but it meant that the inter-
viewers could be reassured that if they interviewed a man who confessed to,
say, an unsolved murder or affirmed that he was going to attack a woman
that evening, it was possible to do something. This was partly for the protec-
tion of women and children from violence, and partly for the protection of
the interviewer. Developing clear guidelines on such issues is especially rel-
evant in research on men who have used sexual violence (Cowburn, 2005;
Hearn et al., 2007). Further complexities pertain when the sexual abuser has
themselves been previously abused, and when this relation is part of the
interview agenda, or when interviewing is conducted in prison (Cowburn,
2007).
Other key issues in interviewing men about their violence include: very
thorough preparation for any eventuality, through training and role plays;
paying close attention to how to begin the interview; polite persistence in
accessing interviewees; being relaxed in asking difficult, perhaps embarrass-
ing, questions; and preparing the end of the interview, including written
information. Such practical questions can be placed into the broader frame
Jeff Hearn 29
of interviewing the powerful or relatively powerful. They are deeply method-

ological and theoretical questions, encompassing the very construction of
knowledge. This is itself typically an intersectional, not a one-dimensional,
social process in terms of hierarchies of, for example, class and race. Inter-
viewing the powerful, such as corporate elites, top businessmen or leading
politicians, raises a number of methodological challenges. Interviewing
powerful men necessitates careful preparation and planning beforehand in
arranging access, use of formal communication (often written letter rather
than email or telephone), considering the likely effects of the venue, effi-
cient use of what may be limited time, being flexible before, during and
after the interview and being alive to similarities and differences between
the interviewee and interviewer. Gender issues can figure in all of these
matters.
Elites and senior managers are often used to being listened to, presenting
themselves, speaking authoritatively, avoiding direct questions, adapting to
different situations and speaking on behalf of their organization. This means
attending closely to the dynamics of control in the interview, including
interviewees’ use of speaking ‘on/off the record’. Corporate elites frequently
identify themselves with the company and it can be challenging for the
researcher to distinguish between the company’s and the interviewee’s per-
spectives. This ‘front’ should not be dismissed or assumed to ‘hide’ a more
complete picture. It is of interest in itself, even though the unofficial story
is also of interest. Odendahl and Shaw (2002) have reviewed key issues
in interviewing elites, and many of their observations are also relevant to
interviewing powerful men. Attention needs to be given to a professional,
punctual, polite approach; dress; possible use of humour; and respectfulness,
but not too much deference nor excessive flattery.
When it is women who are interviewing men, there may be a range of
additional questions: for example, heterosexual definitions of the situation;
flirting; seeing women as the containers of emotions and emotional con-
fession; as threat and/or safety; and dualist complementarity. There is also
the question of to whom the interviewer owes allegiance. At the same time,
women interviewers may be subject to gender power from men interviewees,
but may themselves be more powerfully placed in terms of, say, race, class or
education (see Holland et al. 1993; Lee 1997; Russell et al., 2002; Pini 2005;
Gatrell, 2006; Sandberg, 2011).
A particularly interesting situation is that of women interviewing men
who identify as anti-sexist, feminist or profeminist: those who might be less
defensive men. This involves forms of gender consciousness, and specifically
modes of passing as feminist (Egeberg Holmgren and Hearn, 2009). It raises
what might be called paradoxes of ‘honesty’, whereby (pro)feminist confes-
sion can be seen as evidence of both (pro)feminist and non-(pro)feminist
commitment, and co-fielding, whereby interviewees present as experts in
the very interview topic (Egeberg Holmgren, 2011).
(Auto)biography, autoethnography and memory work

An explicitly gendered focus on men and masculinities can also mean
rethinking how particular research methods are to be used in doing and
developing specific researches on men. Critical reflexive political autobio-
graphical and autoethnographic writing by men on men has been used as an
innovative method for many years (Bradley, 1971; Snodgrass, 1977; Connell,
1997; Hearn, 2005). Some studies have developed applications of Frigga
Haug and colleagues’ (1987/1999) ‘memory-work’ to the reflexive study of
men. This approach has been applied by Bob Pease (2000) to a group of self-
identified profeminist men of which he was part over an 18-month period.
This involved the participants reporting their memorized experiences on
particular themes relevant to the formation of their profeminism as they
saw it. This raised a number of methodological issues: the relatively long-
term commitment of the participants; the placing of the researcher both in
and outside the group; the status of the memories; and the relationship of
men’s subjectivities to others who might not agree with them. In order to
address the last of these points, the relation of men’s subjectivities to others
who might not agree with them, Pease adopted the method of interlocu-
tors from Alain Touraine’s (1977) study of social movements. Through this
method, ‘others’, ranging from men’s rights activists to feminist activists,
were brought into the group, as different kinds of critics, reference points
and clarifiers. A somewhat similar process has been developed by David
Jackson (1990, 2001, 2003) in his critical autobiographical writing on health,
embodiment and ageing. In this, he has used his own life as a resource to
theorize the process of his gendered construction of a boy, young man and
older man, and gendered constructions of boys and men more generally. It is
also necessary to note emerging interest in the process of writing itself as a
method of reflexively studying men (Hearn, 2012b).
Textual analyses and re-readings

Textual analyses of novels, film and other representations have made the
gendering of men, as authors and as characters, explicit (Schwenger, 1984;
Middleton, 1992). Cultural approaches have focused on many textual forms,
such as film, television, photography and genres, such as pornography,
sitcom, horror and westerns.
Research data and findings gathered for one purpose can be reviewed for
the purposes of what they say about men (McKegany and Bloor, 1991).
Critical studies on men may problematize the notion of results in a num-
ber of ways. Research and data are produced through gendered power
relations; results do not just follow: they are themselves the subject of
extensive decisions and interpretations. For example, data gathered for the
study of equal opportunities in private sector companies was reviewed
to elucidate dominant forms of ‘managerial masculinities’: authoritarian,
Jeff Hearn 31
paternalist, careerist, informalist and entrepreneurial (Collinson and Hearn,

1994).
Another kind of re-reading of data has been urged by David Morgan (1992)
in terms of academic ‘classics’, in order to understand how ‘men’ are con-
structed in academia. The naming of men as men (Hanmer, 1990; Collinson
and Hearn, 1994), as gendered social subjects, rather than gendered objects,
means that much conventional disciplinary wisdom needs rewriting. Aca-
demic disciplines can be subject to a process of critically studying men.
This applies in both the revision of content, concepts and theories, and the
revision of the history of disciplines, themselves typically controlled and
developed by men. For example, mainstream political science and history
have often been written by men about men, without noticing and explicitly
gendering men, let alone critically. In much history, men are an absent pres-
ence; women generally an absence. (Men’s) History can itself be subject to
unwriting (Hearn, 2010).
Rethinking and re-practising methodologies
Epistemologies
There are various approaches to epistemology, both generally and in regards
to studying men – rationalist, empiricist, critical, standpoint, postmodernist
and so on. Epistemology is the study of theories of knowledge or ways of
knowing, particularly in the context of the limits or validity of the vari-
ous ways of knowing. It is that branch of philosophy that concerns the
study of the origins, preconditions, nature or forms and limits of knowl-
edge. Though it is difficult to be certain which form of epistemology is or
will be the most productive, it is equally difficult to see how one can analyse
without a framework in the first place.
Rationalists believe that there are innate ideas that are not found in expe-
rience: ideas exist independently of experience, and may in some way derive
from the structure of the human mind or exist independently of the mind.
This is exemplified in the ‘deep essence’ and ‘deep masculinity’ proposed
by Robert Bly and the mythopoetics. It is very difficult to prove or disprove
such knowledge. In this view, men, or women, may know what men are like,
even if evidence appears otherwise.
On the other hand, empiricists deny that there are concepts that exist
prior to experience. For them, all knowledge is a product of human learning,
based on human perception. In this approach, men need to be studied by
sense perceptions, whether directly through one’s own perception as evi-
dence or through more systematic study of the perceptions of others, as
indicative of evidence of the way men are. This perspective can be seen as
the basis of much mainstream social science on men, including that which
is often labelled ‘men’s studies’. The focus on perception, however, brings its
own concerns, since illusions, misunderstandings and hallucinations show

that perception does not always depict the world as it ‘really is’.
There are, however, problems with both of these versions of epistemology,
and certainly so in their pure or extreme forms. Kant and subsequently many
other critical thinkers have attempted to develop some form of synthesis
between these views. According to these more critical views, people certainly
do have knowledge that is prior to experience, for example, the principle
of causality, and Kant held that there are a priori synthetic concepts. But
empirical knowledge is also important.
Many others have expanded this insight and developed forms of knowl-
edge that mix elements of rationalism, empiricism and critical reflec-
tion, whether through an emphasis on meaning and interpretation, as in
hermeneutics, or through more societally grounded analyses of knowledge,
as in Hegelian–Marxist traditions and feminist and other, indeed multiple,
standpoint theories. A contrast can be drawn between more individually
defined standpoint theory, which prioritizes knowledge from the individ-
ual’s identity politics claims, and more socially contextualized standpoint
theory that sees knowledge as a more collective endeavour and production
that is linked to historical and organizational political positions and circum-
stances, not necessarily rooted in individual identity politics, and less still to
deterministic validations. More collective understandings of standpoint the-
ory can inform research designs, highlighting gendered power relations in
research focus and research process. It can assist production of more explic-
itly gendered and grounded knowledge about men, masculinities and gender
relations.
Standpoint traditions have informed much development of feminist/
profeminist CSMM. The positioning of the author in relation to the topic
of men, as a personal, gendered, epistemological and geopolitical relation,
to some extent shapes the object of research and the topic of men and
masculinities. Differentiations in the positioning of the researcher in relation
to the topic of men are partly matters of individual choices and decisions,
but increasingly structural, geopolitical positioning is also recognized. The
various relations of the researcher and the researched, of the author and the
topic/object (men), include
• absence, fixed presence and avoidance in which either topic (men) or

author are absent, avoided or present yet non-problematic. One major
way of studying, or not studying, men has been through ignoring the
category of men or making any gendering of men implicit.
• alliance and attachment in which both topic and author are present,
yet both or either remain non-problematic. There is an alliance/
attachment between author and topic.
• subversion and separation in which both topic and author are problem-
atic and subverted.
Jeff Hearn 33
• ambivalence in which topic and/or author are problematic and

ambivalent.
• alterity in which topic and/or author are problematic and made other.
• critique in which authors critically and reflexively engage with both
themselves and the topic, within an emancipatory context.
(Hearn, 1998a)
Such critique entails a critical relation to the topic; author self-reflexivity; an

awareness of the social location of both author and topic; the consideration
of the social bases of knowledge; a commitment to the political emanci-
pation of women and men; and where appropriate, empirical inquiry, not
just assertion and speculation (Hearn, 1998a, p. 801). For men to develop
a critical relation to men rests partly on the possibility of a profeminist,
anti-patriarchal standpoint and praxis. This, in turn, rests on developing
profeminist, anti-patriarchal actions, activities, research and organizing and
positive relations with feminist theory/practice. Needless to say, plural or
hybrid discourses often operate in particular researches on men.
Postcolonial theory has shown that it matters whether analysis is con-
ducted from within the West, the global South, former Soviet territories or
elsewhere. History and geography matter in epistemologies in studying men.
One contentious issue is whether men can develop a standpoint that is not
profeminist and yet not contrary to women’s/feminist interests. This might
be appealing for some men; however, I remain unconvinced of the viability
of a non-profeminist standpoint of some men in producing scientific studies
of men.
Standpoint and related positions have, in turn, been challenged by femi-
nist postmodernist, deconstructive and queer approaches to epistemologies
(Harding, 1991). Postmodernist approaches can themselves be more or less
anti-foundational in their assumptions, so producing possibilities of mul-
tiple accounts and realities – including of and about men. Postcolonial
and other critical epistemologies, including those that do not necessar-
ily prioritize gender, may serve to show that men are intersectional, not
just men. An important and growing arena of debate is material-discursive,
post-constructionist epistemologies for studying men (Hearn, 2012a).
A specific implication of these relations of researcher and researched con-
cerns the very constitution of what is called social theory. Conventional
social theory has clearly ignored gender relations and instead reproduced
patriarchal social relations through its own practices. More specifically, there
is the silence that exists in most social theory about the gendered reflexivity
of the author and the constitution of that theory. Changing this involves
problematizing the silence that has persisted on both the category of men in
social theory, and men’s practices of theorizing. Linked questions are: How
can the silences around men’s reflexive gendered presence in social theory be
countered, including the silence on itself? How to reconstitute the silences
that exist around the relation of men and social theory? These might be con-
sidered to be ‘silences of men’. The problematization and reconstitution of
objectivity and subjectivities through situated knowledges may offer some
provisional answers. In short, social theory implies and implicates political
practice.
Ontologies
In addition to epistemological considerations in the study of men and
masculinities, there are also questions of ontology, including the gendered
nature of the researcher, social reality and their interrelations. In its simplest
form, it could be suggested that it may not matter who is doing the study of
men – a woman or a man, a feminist or an anti-feminist. Though perhaps
the supposed arbitrariness of the nature of the researcher becomes less con-
vincing if we imagine, say, an ardently and consistently anti-feminist man
researcher, a queer feminist historian with a qualified standpoint approach
and sympathies with non-anti-foundational postmodernism, or a transgen-
der sports sociologist gathering information on men at a professional ice
hockey match. This might, we could suppose, have implications for what
is seen, the data gathered, the mode of analysis, interpretation and so on.
So the empirical is not so transparent after all. Non-transparency is clear
from, for example, gay re-readings of film and other media productions. This
is not to say that gay men always read films in certain ‘gay ways’; rather,
there are probabilities or tendencies for certain gay men to read film in ways
that most straight men might not see.
Thus what may at first appear obvious and open to the proceduralized
gathering of empirical data is not so simple. One might argue that different
knowledges are available to men than to women, feminists, profeminists,
anti-feminists and so on. This is partly a matter of experience, as socially
defined, and partly a matter of politically and socially defined standpoint –
feminist or some form of feminism, such as black feminist, profeminist and
so on. Emphasizing the researcher is not to suggest a deterministic account
of their impact; rather, researchers’ social location is relevant, especially in
researching certain topics, but not all-encompassing.
This ontological argument might be especially important in researching
certain topics and social sites. It is important to note that the relevance and
impact of the social position of the knower is likely to vary considerably with
different kinds of research situations, sites, materials and questions. As dis-
cussed in the next section, the ‘topic’ of ‘men’ is not unified. It ranges from
broad theoretical analyses to specific social situations, which might be, say,
individual, or ‘men-only’ (such as a Finnish men’s sauna), or mixed gender
and so on. Studying men cannot be left only to men, or to non-feminists.
Men’s knowledge of men is at best limited and partial, at worst violently
patriarchal. Subject positions are intersectionally different for women and
men: women are researching/writing in relation to another object, ‘men’;
Jeff Hearn 35
men are in relation to a similar object, a category of which they are part.
Women’s studies of men can name men as men, study men as other than
women and ‘know’ men through their effects upon women (Willott, 1998;
Campbell, 2003). This links to increasing awareness of the embodied nature
of knowledge, in relation to researcher and researched. This is not to sug-
gest determinism, less still biologism, but rather that knowledge, including
that on men, is partly embodied. Indeed, researching men does not mean
or suggest any stress on men rather than women. Rather, making the social
gendered category of men explicit is a necessary consequence of making
women powerful in the social sciences. Men are just as gendered as women,
within gender relations.
This leads onto the very question of what is ‘meant’ by ‘men’. This again
may not be such an obvious matter. The topic of men is not unified, ranging
from broad theoretical analyses to specific social situations, which might
be individual or men-only or mixed gender. For myself, in saying ‘men’,
I am referring to several forms: the category of ‘men’ as a generalized or
abstract social categorization; men as collectivities; and men as individuals
and groups of individuals. A wide variety of texts show the limitations of
a view of gender as overly dichotomized or in a fixed relation to sex. They
include historical and cross-societal analyses of multiple gender ideologies
and third sex/third gender; approaches derived from historical dialectical
processes of the transformation of men as a gender class (Hearn, 2004); and
gender queer and gender pluralism. One way to address this is through the
notion of gex, as a shorthand for gender/sex (Hearn, 2012). This takes seri-
ously the complex intersections of gender, sex and sexuality, rather than
assuming that gender is a cultural construction of pre-existing sex, in this
context the male sex.
Conclusion
Finally, we may ask where CSMM are heading. I will just mention five major
issues that need attention in the future.
First, critical studies on men need to be carefully monitored – to avoid
creating a new power base for men, and a new way of ignoring or forget-
ting women, feminist work and gendered power relations between men and
women. This is important in terms of both critical analysis of men’s relations
with women, and recognition of women’s scholarship on men.
Second, the focus on men needs to be asserted – to name men as men –
while simultaneously the category of men is deconstructed, interrogated as
historical, material, relational, culturally specific and ideological. The cate-
gory of men is both fundamental to the understanding of gendered power
relations, and liable to deconstruction and abolition.
Third, it is necessary to ask to what extent does dominant ‘scientific’
knowledge rely on a particular form of academic men’s subjectivity? To what
extent is what is called ‘objectivity’ itself another form of subjectivity –

often made possible by invisible labour, unspoken powers, exclusions and
marginalizations and the many ways in which malestream ‘science’ has been
and is done? To what extent is it possible for men to develop profeminist,
anti-patriarchal praxis in academic work, as well as in personal and private
lives? It is a request most men will be wary of because it involves changing
their lives. For many academic men, it will probably seem too much to ask,
too much to risk, too single minded, for the sceptical male. Indeed, different
men are likely to engage in CSMM with quite different degrees of personal
and political commitment, and varying connections with profeminist or
related political activism outside academia. This is a political structuring
of academic activity that needs to be understood and analysed, and still
lived with and critiqued. It involves living with men’s different degrees of
profeminist commitment, and at the same time being ready to draw the line
against and oppose anti-feminism from men.
This emphasis on subjectivity and objectivity links closely with a fourth
issue: the need to address the silences that surround men’s theorizing.
As noted, dominant social theory has failed to develop a reflexive theory
of men, both as authors of that theory and more generally as a social cat-
egory. This is not simply a matter of technique in theory construction but
speaks to the very heart of what counts as theory. Men’s critical theorizing
needs to engage with such silences and include reflexive, socially grounded
understandings of them within that theorizing.
Finally, it is important to consider areas of the study of men where
critical empirical work is needed. These range from the very intimate
and unspoken – emotions, sexuality, violence, the body, ageing, disability,
death – to the grand and the global: international finance, manufacture
and trade; multinationals; militarism; development aid; state and supra-state
organizations; ICTs (Information Communication Technologies), global
communications, and the media; and reproductive and medical technol-
ogy. Furthermore, studies of the complex connections between the intimate
and the global are a priority in the development of research. Through-
out, the complexity of power and power relations needs to be recognized;
intersectional gender/sexual subtexts need to be made apparent; men need
to be named and deconstructed. If critical studies on men are not developed
with an awareness of political context, they are nothing.
References
Allen, L. (2005) ‘Managing Masculinity: Young Men’s Identity Work in Focus Groups’,
Qualitative Research, 5, 35–57.
Bradley, M. (1971) Unbecoming Men: A Men’s Consciousness-Raising Group Writes on
Oppression and Themselves (Albion, CA: Times Change Press).
Campbell, E. (2003) ‘Interviewing Men in Uniform: A Feminist Approach?’, Interna-
tional Journal of Social Research Methodology, 6, 285–304.
Jeff Hearn 37
Collinson, D.L. and J. Hearn (1994) ‘Naming Men as Men: Implications for Work,
Organizations and Management’, Gender, Work and Organization, 1, 2–22.
Connell, R. (1997) ‘Long and Winding Road: An Outsider’s View of U.S. Masculinity
and Feminism’ in B. Laslett and B. Thorne (eds) Feminist Sociology: Histories of a
Movement (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press).
Cowburn, M. (2005) ‘Confidentiality and Public Protection: Ethical Dilemmas in Qual-
itative Research with Adult Male Sex Offenders’, Journal of Sexual Aggression, 11,
49–63.
Research’, The Howard Journal of Criminal Justice, 46, 276–288.
Egeberg Holmgren, L. (2011) ‘Cofielding in Qualitative Interviews: Gender, Knowl-
edge, and Interaction in a Study of (Pro)Feminist Men’, Qualitative Inquiry, 17,
364–378.
Egeberg Holmgren, L. and J. Hearn (2009) ‘Framing “Men in Feminism”: Theoret-
ical Locations, Local Contexts and Practical Passings in Men’s Gender-Conscious
Positionings on Gender Equality and Feminism’, Journal of Gender Studies, 18,
403–418.
Gatrell, C. (2006) ‘Interviewing Fathers: Feminist Dilemmas in Fieldwork’, Journal of
Hanmer, J. (1990) ‘Men, Power and the Exploitation of Women’ in J. Hearn
and D. Morgan (eds) Men, Masculinities and Social Theory (London: Unwin
Hyman/Routledge).
Harding, S. (1991) Whose Science? Whose Knowledge? Thinking from Women’s Lives
(Milton Keynes: Open University Press).
Haug, F., et al. (1987/1999) Female Sexualization: A Collective Work of Memory (translated
by E. Carter) (London: Verso).
Hearn, J. (1998a) ‘Theorizing Men and Men’s Theorizing: Men’s Discursive Practices
in Theorizing Men’, Theory and Society, 27, 781–816.
Hearn, J. (1998b) The Violences of Men: How Men Talk about and How Agencies Respond
to Men’s Violence to Women (London: Sage).
Hearn, J. (2004) ‘From Hegemonic Masculinity to the Hegemony of Men’, Feminist
Theory, 5, 97–120.
Hearn, J. (2005) ‘Autobiography, Nation, Postcolonialism and Gender: Reflecting on
Men in England, Finland and Ireland’, Irish Journal of Sociology, 14, 66–93.
Hearn, J. (2010) ‘(Un)writing Men’s (Auto)biography, (Un)writing Men’s History:
Local, National and Transnational Perspectives’, Socialist History: Journal of the
Socialist History Society, 36, 29–54.
Hearn, J. (2012a) ‘Male Bodies, Masculine Bodies, Men’s Bodies: The Need for a
Concept of Gex’ in B.S. Turner (ed.) Routledge Handbook of Body Studies (London:
Routledge).
Hearn, J. (2012b) ‘Writing as Intimate Friends . . . How Does Writing Profeminist
Research Become Methodologically Challenging?’, in M. Livholts (ed.) Emergent
Writing Methodologies in Feminist Studies (New York: Routledge).
Hearn, J., P. Raws and R. Barford (1993) ‘Working Guidelines: Men Interviewing Men’
in J. Hearn (ed.) Researching Men and Researching Men’s Violences, Violence, Abuse
and Gender Relations Research Unit No. 4, University of Bradford.
Hearn, J., K. Andersson and M. Cowburn (2007) Background Paper on Guidelines for
Researchers on Doing Research with Perpetrators of Sexual Violence. Final Report, Com-
missioned by Sexual Violence Research Initiative, and The Global Forum for Health
Research, http://www.svri.org/perpetrators.pdf.
Holland, J., C. Ramazanoglu and S. Sharpe (1993) Wimp or Gladiator: Contradictions in

Acquiring Masculine Sexuality (London: Tufnell Press).
Jackson, D. (1990) Unmasking Masculinity: A Critical Autobiography (London: Unwin
Hyman/Routledge).
Jackson, D. (2001) ‘Masculinity Challenges to an Ageing Man’s Embodied Selves:
Struggles, Collusions and Resistances’, Auto/Biography, 9, 107–115.
Jackson, D. (2003) ‘Beyond One-dimensional Models of Masculinity: A Life-Course
Perspective on the Processes of Becoming Masculine’, Auto/Biography, 11, 71–87.
McKegany, N. and M. Bloor (1991) ‘Spotting the Invisible Man: The Influence of Male
Middleton, P. (1992) The Inward Gaze (London: Routledge).
Morgan, D. (1981) ‘Men, Masculinity and the Process of Sociological Enquiry’ in
H. Roberts (ed.) Doing Feminist Research (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul).
Odendahl, T. and A.M. Shaw (2002) ‘Interviewing Elites’ in J.F. Gubrium and
J.A. Holstein (eds) Handbook of Interview Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage).
Russell, C., D. Touchard, and M. Porter (2002) ‘What’s Rapport Got to Do with It? The
practical accomplishment of fieldwork relations between young female researchers
and socially marginalised older men’, http:// www.nova.edu/ssss/QR/QR7-1/russell.
html. The Qualitative Report, 7 (1), March.
Sandberg, L. (2011) Getting Intimate: A Feminist Analysis of Old Age, Masculinity
and Sexuality (Linköping: Linköping University Electronic Press). http://liu.diva-
portal.org/smash/record.jsf;jsessionid= bcfc4360ef03c6106479649b3232?searchId=
1&pid= diva2:408208.
Schacht, S.P. (1997) ‘Feminist Fieldwork in the Misogynist Setting of the Rugby
Pitch: Temporarily Becoming a Sylph to Survive and Personally Grow’, Journal of
Schrock, D. and M.L. Schwalbe (2009) ‘Men, Masculinity, and Manhood Acts’, Annual
Review of Sociology, 35, 277–295.
Schwalbe, M.L. and M. Wolkomir (2001) ‘The Masculine Self as Problem and Resource
in Interview Studies of Men’, Men and Masculinities, 4, 90–103.
Schwalbe, M.L. and M. Wolkomir (2002) ‘Interviewing Men’ in J.F. Gubrium and
J.A. Holstein (eds) Handbook of Interview Research (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage).
Schwenger, P. (1984) Phallic Critiques (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul).
Snodgrass, J. (ed.) (1977) A Book of Readings for Men Against Sexism (Albion, CA: Times
Change Press).
Tallberg, T. (2009) ‘The Gendered Social Organisation of Defence: Two Ethnographic
Case Studies in the Finnish Defence Forces’, Economics and Society, 193 (Helsinki:
Hanken School of Economics). https://helda.helsinki.fi/bitstream/handle/10227/
312/193-978-952-232-020-9.pdf?sequence=2.
Touraine, A. (1977) The Voice and the Eye: An Analysis of Social Movements (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press).
Willott, S. (1998) ‘An Outsider Within: A Feminist Doing Research with Men’ in
K. Henwood, C. Griffin and A. Phoenix (eds) Standpoints and Differences: Essays in
the Practice of Feminist Psychology (London: Sage).
3
Epistemology, Methodology
and Accountability in Researching
Men’s Subjectivities and Practices
Bob Pease
Introduction
I have been involved in researching, writing, teaching and profeminist

activism in relation to men and masculinities for over 20 years. I first
engaged with the critical scholarship on men and masculinities because
I wanted to theoretically inform my practice as a profeminist activist. I was
involved in Men Against Sexism in Tasmania the 1980s; I was a co-founding
member of Men Against Sexual Assault, which was formed in Melbourne
in 1989; and I was one of the organizers of the first White Ribbon Cam-
paign against men’s violence in Australia. Therefore, for me, the critical
interrogation of men and masculinities was always connected to profeminist
activism. My PhD was on profeminist masculinity politics: examining the
pathways for men who take on profeminist subject positions, and explor-
ing the spaces for men’s involvement in struggles for gender equality (Pease,
1996, 2000).
My intellectual and political work has thus been explicitly profeminist.
A profeminist perspective locates men’s lives in the context of patriarchy,
hegemonic masculinity and the social divisions between men. It involves
a sense of responsibility for our own and other men’s sexism, and a com-
mitment to work with women to end men’s violence (Douglas, 1993).
It acknowledges that men benefit from the oppression of women and draws
men’s attention to the privileges we receive as men and the harmful effects
these privileges have on women (Thorne-Finch, 1992).
Thus, I have always believed that the study of men and masculinities
should focus on the ways of working towards gender equality, rather than
focus solely on the issues facing men. In this respect, it is important to locate
the study of men and masculinities in the context of feminist theories. Too
many masculinity theorists and researchers have failed to acknowledge the
debt they owe to feminist theory and feminist activism. Critical research on
39
40 Epistemology, Methodology and Accountability
men and masculinities should contribute to our understanding of how men

gain, maintain and use power to subordinate women (Hanmer, 1990) as well
as how they might transform that power.
Over 20 years ago, Canaan and Griffin (1990, p. 213) commented that
there ‘is no sense of transforming political strategy in masculinity studies’.
Little has changed since then. I have argued elsewhere that the major task
of critical studies on men should be part of a strategy for changing men’s
subjectivities and practices to contribute to gender equality. I have also
emphasized that we need to avoid the danger of the study of men being
absorbed into traditional academic frameworks without any explicit com-
mitment to producing change (Pease, 2002). Thus, one of the purposes of
critical studies on men should be to inform profeminist activism in relation
to, for example, men’s violence against women, counter-sexist education
in schools, anti-pornography and anti sex trafficking campaigns, and gen-
der equality struggles in workplaces. Masculinity studies academics should
therefore maintain strong links with feminist and profeminist activists, and
contribute to the development of political strategies for challenging the
social relations of gender.
Critical studies on men, along with feminist theory, can provide a theo-
retical basis for profeminist activist work. However, if men are to write about
and research men’s domination, they need to demonstrate that they have
an appreciation of the issues at stake (Halewood, 1995). This means that
they need to demonstrate how they have responded to feminist critiques of
men’s scholarship. If they ignore such critiques, their claims for consider-
ation of their contribution to emancipatory knowledge will go unheeded.
In this chapter, I discuss some of the political and methodological issues
I have encountered in researching men in the context of these concerns.
Doing feminist research with men
I first began to take gender seriously in intellectual work when I undertook

a Masters thesis on radical social workers in the mid-1980s (Pease, 1987,
1990). Feminism had played an important role in shaping my personal,
professional and political concerns during this time. Close personal relation-
ships with feminist women, cooperative working relationships with feminist
co-workers and my experience in an anti-sexist men’s consciousness raising
group provided the direct impetus for bringing gender consciousness into
my research.
While there was considerable literature on feminist research during the
1980s, there were three major methodological emphases: a recognition of
the open presence of the researcher as intrinsic to the process; a non-
exploitative relationship between the researcher and the researched, which
is based on collaborative cooperation and mutual respect; and transforming
the research process into one of conscientization, a process of learning and
Bob Pease 41
critical self-reflection for the participants (Klein, 1983; Mies, 1983; Stanley
and Wise, 1983).
In light of these feminist concerns, I became particularly interested in the
use of participatory research methodologies. Thus, in relation to the research
above, I undertook a collaborative inquiry with male and female social
work practitioners who were attempting to formulate radical approaches
to their practice (Pease, 1987, 1990). My specific interest was in how rad-
ical social workers related critical theories (including feminism) to their
practice.
From the beginning of the research process, I believed that there was an
important relationship between the purpose of research and the method
of study. I was aware of studies that had liberating objectives, but used
questionable research strategies to pursue them. My concern about research
methodology was that it should constitute an emancipatory political prac-
tice. I wanted to contribute to an educational process for the practitioners,
and I wanted to assist the practitioners who participated in the study to
grapple more effectively with the tensions and conflicts in their work.
I used participatory research methodologies further in my research with
profeminist men (Pease, 1996, 2000). I invited men who were support-
ive of feminism to participate in a collaborative inquiry group to examine
their experiences and dilemmas of trying to live out their profeminist com-
mitment. The aim was to explore the extent to which it was possible for
men to reposition themselves in patriarchal discourses and to reformulate
their interests in challenging gender domination. To link the process of per-
sonal transformation to the collective politics of change in gender relations,
I explored these experiences and dilemmas through three participatory
methodologies: anti-sexist consciousness raising, memory work and dia-
logues with allies and opponents of profeminism.
Consciousness raising enabled the men to explore issues in relation to
their own lives and to link these issues to the wider social and political con-
text. Through our discussions, we strengthened our discursive framework
as an alternative subject position. Memory work provided an opportunity
to reframe some of the content of our memories to facilitate a process of
challenging dominant gender relations. By asking men to reflect on their
understandings of the ways in which they accommodated to or resisted the
dominant constructions of masculinity, we were able to understand the ways
in which new subject positions could be created. Dialogue with allies and
opponents of profeminism contributed to the development of new spaces for
the collective positioning of profeminist men’s work in the ongoing public
debates about masculinity politics.
Although I made no claims that my research methodology in either
project was feminist, I was inspired by feminist principles in construct-
ing my methodology. Wadsworth and Hargreaves (1993) suggested that the
methodological approaches of feminism would be relevant to men who
were seeking to transform subordinating practices, while Maguire (1987) also

encouraged men to use participatory research to uncover their own modes
of domination of women.
While there was a view in the 1970s and 1980s that feminist methods
could be developed from feminist epistemologies, the question of whether
men could use these methods to research men’s lives was a contentious
issue (Kremer, 1990). I later read other accounts by men using feminist
methodologies (Jones, 1996; Levinson, 1998), and I could easily relate to
the dilemmas about the legitimacy of men using these methods to explore
men’s lives. While the very idea of feminist methods would later be chal-
lenged (Delamont and Atkinson, 2008), the articulation of feminist methods
did open up important discussions about the relationship between methods,
epistemology and purposes of the research.
I am not suggesting here that participatory methodologies are the only
way to pursue social change agendas in research with men. In fact,
participatory methods are problematic in many forms of research with
men, especially in researching violent and abusive men. I have thus also
used more traditional life history, storytelling and narrative methods (Pease,
2009; Pease and Crossley, 2009; Pease and wa Mungai, 2009). For example,
Thurston (1996) explores how men’s stories and storytelling can illuminate
the reproduction of gender inequalities, and how they can be used to resist
and transform hegemonic masculinity.
It is also now clear that quantitative methods are not inherently pos-
itivist and patriarchal, and that qualitative methods are not necessarily
feminist or emancipatory. However, just as feminists have been very inter-
ested in women’s experience and subjectivity, it is important for profeminist
male researchers to give greater attention to their own subjectivity and
the subjectivity of the men in their studies. Hence, while men should not
necessarily be deterred from using quantitative methods if they are appropri-
ate to their specific research project, qualitative and ethnographic methods
such as life history interviews, ethnography, autoethnography and memory
work are more likely to encourage male researchers to focus on subjectivity.
I argue that the interrogation of masculine subjectivities is important in any
research with men that aims to challenge gender inequality.
Towards a profeminist epistemology
At its heart, feminism is an oppositional epistemology against androcentric

and sexist knowledge (Wickramasinghe, 2010). There are many epistemo-
logical positions from which feminist research can be conducted, includ-
ing empiricist, postmodern and feminist standpoint theories (Harding,
1986). While standpoint and postmodernist epistemologies are often con-
trasted as oppositional, there has been a convergence between the two
Bob Pease 43
ways of knowing, whereby one can now articulate postmodern feminist

standpoints (Grant, 1993). Because there are multiple positionings associ-
ated with class, sexuality, ethnicity, age and class, standpoint epistemologies
must acknowledge and embrace these differences (Fawcett and Hearn,
2004).
Messner (1990) argues that the key debate about researching men
and masculinities is an epistemological issue. He is concerned with
the best standpoint to interrogate men and masculinities, arguing that
we need to move beyond objectivism to a feminist standpoint. Stand-
point epistemologies have been important in informing much profeminist
research on men (Hearn, 1994, 2007; Flood, 1997; Pease, 2000; Popoviciu
et al., 2006; Cowburn, 2007). Such an approach is important in ensur-
ing that the positioning of the researcher is essential in the construction
and implementation of research. Hence, knowledge is situated, embod-
ied and plurivocal, as opposed to being universal, abstract and categorical
(Halewood, 1995).
If masculinist research is based on notions of objectivity whereby the
male researcher purports to be an unbiased observer, it would seem that
male researchers who want to do research differently would need to be self-
reflexive about their positioning in relation to such concepts as gender, race,
class and geopolitical location. Such reflexivity is necessary to avoid both
the male researcher’s detachment and the universalizing of his experience
(Sundberg, 2011).
While masculinist epistemologies are not inherently male, they are never-
theless connected to white straight academic men, because such men tend
to regard objective knowledge as the only valid form of knowledge. Male
researchers generally do not think about how their structural and discursive
positioning relates to their knowledge claims. They are not likely to consider
how being a white straight academic man will influence their scholarship
and research (Halewood, 1995). As Morgan (1981) noted over 30 years
ago, male scholars find it difficult to take gender into account when doing
research.
Some have raised questions about whether men can do research that
undermines their material interests (Canaan and Griffin, 1990; Hanmer,
1990; Morgan, 1992). There have certainly been a number of feminist cri-
tiques of profeminist men’s scholarship for failing to address men’s privilege
and power adequately (Robinson, 2003; Ashe, 2007; Macleod, 2007). Hearn
(1994) has also raised questions about whether men could undertake an
autobiographical critique of their own oppressor position within patriarchal
society.
In the more traditional versions of standpoint theory, any research pro-
duced by members of dominant groups would lead to distorted understand-
ings of social relations (Halewood, 1995). However, this is largely because
the researchers’ social positioning and embodiment were not acknowledged.

If the male researcher does take account of his situatedness, he has the poten-
tial to develop a different standpoint and hence a different epistemological
position.
Twenty-five years ago, Harding (1987) argued that men were potentially
able to engage in self-critique. I have noted previously (Pease, 2000) that a
standpoint entails both structural location and the discursive construction
of subjectivity. This is what enables us to differentiate between a profeminist
men’s standpoint and traditional men’s standpoints. May (1998) identifies
four dimensions of a progressive male standpoint: knowledge that is based
on personal experience; knowledge that is subjected to critical interroga-
tions of that experience; a moral commitment to challenge oppression; and
practical interventions that men can undertake.
A profeminist standpoint is informed by feminist epistemologies as well
as anti-sexist frameworks about men and masculinities (Cowburn, 2007).
Key characteristics of a profeminist standpoint entail knowledge of femi-
nist critiques and a commitment to challenge patriarchy and male power
(Cowburn, 2005). Enacting a profeminist standpoint that challenges white
male heterosexual epistemology will require male researchers to understand
and respond to key debates within anti-racist, feminist and gay literature,
to engage in dialogues with women, to learn to speak and problematize
their own whiteness, masculinity and heterosexuality, which is too often
obscured in universal claims (Ryder, 1991), and to ensure that their research
is accountable to women.
Listening to feminist concerns
Halewood (1995) argues that listening to others is a fundamental require-

ment for the development of an alternative epistemological stance that
acknowledges privileged positionings. What is key here is the recognition
that one’s epistemological perspective is only partial. White straight men
find most difficulty in recognizing that their perspective on the world is
shaped by their structural location. If men fail to situate their own stand-
point and fail to recognize the validity of other standpoints, they are more
able to protect their vested interests (Dougherty, 1999).
While there is considerable literature that challenges academic men to
rethink their approach to scholarship, there has been little consideration to
how men listen and respond to this feminist critique. It has been said that
men have not had to listen to women and, consequently, that they have
not developed the human capacities for empathic listening that involves
opening oneself to others (O’Fallon and Ryan, 1989–1990).
Much of the focus on developing conditions for dialogue across differ-
ence is about how oppressed groups can find their voice and speak up about
their experiences. Little attention has been given to the responsibility of the
Bob Pease 45
privileged to shut up and listen to hear those groups’ experiences. Dreher

(2009) talks about the right of oppressed groups to be understood and to
have their experience comprehended. This involves a sense of obligation for
members of privileged groups to listen to those who are oppressed in ways
that are different from those they already understand. We need to find ways
to facilitate the hearing of these experiences of the oppressed.
Listening attentively to the experiences of people who are oppressed is
not easy for members of privileged groups (Johnson, 2006). In part, this
is because it means relinquishing our perception of ourselves as knowers
rather than listeners (O’Donnell et al., 2009). It can be quite destabilizing to
have our dominance, knowledge or expertise contested (Fellows and Razack,
1998).
Lloyd (2009) refers to listening as a precondition for democratic dia-
logue and believes that it entails an ethical responsibility on the part of
the privileged. Listening across difference and inequality requires an atten-
tion to privilege and a preparedness to undo it. Dreher (2009) refers to
this as ‘ethical listening’. This involves not only the ability to understand
the other, but also to be receptive to our own complicity with systems of
privilege.
Engaging in dialogue with women
Adopting a profeminist standpoint epistemology requires men to engage

in dialogues with women about their experiences of oppression. However,
many men are reluctant to discuss women’s experiences because it requires
them to acknowledge their privilege and their complicity in women’s
oppression (Dougherty, 1999). Because many men are disconnected from
the lived experiences of women, critical dialogue with women is essen-
tial to bring about changes in the relations of ruling as they pertain to
research. To enable such a dialogue to take place, men need to under-
stand their internalized domination (Pheterson, 1986) and recognize that
their knowledge of women’s subordination will only be partial (Ellsworth,
1989). Male researchers will also need to demonstrate an understanding
that their knowledge and perception of the world is socially situated if they
are to avoid oppressive practices in their encounters with women (Pease,
2010b).
As part of the project on exploring profeminist men’s subjectivities,
I organized dialogues with feminist women and gay men to explore male
and heterosexual privilege, respectively (Pease, 2000). The men listened to
women’s suspicions about their work, their doubts about how men could
overcome their dominant subjectivities and why men would want to change.
They also heard from the gay men about their reticence to engage in an open
dialogue with straight men because of straight men’s reluctance to acknowl-
edge their heterosexual privilege and the concern that straight men’s gay
affirmative stance may marginalize gay men’s voices. Due to the lack of trust
and power inequality, these dialogues were difficult to conduct at times, but
charting our way through them left me with some hope for the future of
such conversations when researching straight men.
Developing gender reflexivity
Research by men often fails to acknowledge the implicit gendering of their

work (Morgan, 1992). Feminist critiques of masculinist research challenge
male researchers to be more reflexive about themselves and the gendered
assumptions in their projects (Hearn, 2007). Such reflexivity is essential if
men are to develop a profeminist standpoint.
Many commentators have observed the gendered social relations embed-
ded in the academic production of knowledge (Morgan, 1981; Morgan,
1992; Flood, 1997; Hearn, 2007). It is clear that male scholars cannot escape
their structural location within the male-dominated academy within which
research on men and women takes place. Men’s knowledge will continue
to be privileged while these hierarchical gender relations remain in place.
However, men’s subjectivity in these relations of power within the academy
will either reproduce or challenge the traditional scientific approach to
knowledge production. To address this issue, I have argued that it is impor-
tant to shift the focus of scholarly activity to interrogate various forms of
privilege, including geopolitical location, class, gender, race, sexuality and
able-bodiedness (Pease, 2010a).
While Nicholls (2009) emphasizes the importance of reflexivity to situate
researchers’ knowledge, she proposes broadening the process of reflexivity
to include transparent self-reflexivity (identification of assumptions about
power and privilege in the research process), interpersonal reflexivity (reflec-
tions on the interpersonal dynamics of collaborative relationships) and
collective reflexivity (reflections on how the frame of inquiry of the research
was shaped by collaborative relationships).
Wickramasinghe (2010) argues that researchers who advocate feminist
politics should ensure that they maintain an ethical responsibility to those
politics throughout the research process. Reflexivity then becomes a method
for interrogating researcher subjectivity, which she argues permeates all
aspects of the research. This entails being aware of multiple positionings
of the researcher in relation to concepts such as class, gender, ethnicity, age
and sexuality, as well as subjectivities related to epistemology, ethics and
politics as they relate to the research objectives, research topic and research
methods.
Over 30 years ago, Rowan (1981) developed a series of questions for
researchers to interrogate their own subjectivity in relation to efficiency,
authenticity, alienation, politics, patriarchy, dialectics, legitimacy and rel-
evance for all stages of the research process. His questions in relation to
Bob Pease 47
patriarchy are still relevant for male researchers who want to take gender
seriously. I certainly found them useful when reflecting upon my own
subjectivity in previous research projects.
Being: Is E sexist? Racist? Classist? Ageist?
Does E conduct a great deal of his life in terms of domination and submis-
sion? Competition and acclaim? Struggle for recognition?
Is E aware of patriarchal patterns which surround him?
Thinking: Does E take patriarchy for granted?
Does E draw attention to patriarchal patterns when he discovers them?
Project: Does the set-up take patriarchy for granted?
Does the research design reinforce patterns of domination in any way?
Encounter: Are control patterns actively being broken down?
Is the assumption being made that everyone is heterosexual?
Making Sense: Does the analysis make sexist, racist, classist or ageist
assumptions?
Does the process involve contemplation as well as analysis?
Is there emotional support for E during the process?
Communication: If information is passed on, is it done in such a way as not
to put down those who receive it?
Is the information elaborated into curlicues of abstraction?
Critical autobiography (Jackson, 1990) and autoethnography (Philaretou
and Allen, 2006) provide methodologies for male researchers to interro-
gate their own experience. In my recent book on undoing privilege, I write
about the processes by which I have come to understand my own privi-
lege as a straight white male academic from a working-class background
(Pease, 2010a). Although the book is not a memoir, it has elements of mem-
oir woven into the exploration of privilege. I have tried to illustrate the
exploration of privilege with my own experience.
Ensuring accountability to women’s interests
Harding (1987) argues that knowledge developed by male researchers should

be subject to critical scrutiny to ensure that it serves the interests of
women and feminism. Reflexivity and capacity to listen to and willingness
to engage in dialogue with women, important as they are, are not suffi-
cient to ensure that men’s research with men will serve women’s interests.
Good intentions are not enough. It is not just a matter of male researchers
transforming their subjectivities in the light of feminist critiques. Such
research should be accountable to women whose interests it purports to serve
(Halewood, 1995). Male researchers must develop strategies for deferring to
the epistemological authority of women. Doucet and Mauthner (2002) sug-

gest that researchers need to develop an epistemic responsibility because
they are involved in power-based knowledge construction. They thus have
an ethical responsibility to those for whom the knowledge is generated.
Profeminist male scholars have often failed to engage with the issue of
accountability. There has been very little discussion in profeminist men’s
writing and research about how they ensure that their research is account-
able to women. Further, most discussions of accountability in generic
research texts limit discussions about accountability to research respondents
and participants. When men are researching men to address issues of con-
cern to women (for example, in the case of men’s violence and abuse),
they need to address their accountability to those outside of the immediate
research context.
In this model of accountability, the more privileged group has to hear
the concerns of the less privileged group and together they must find a way
to resolve the issues. The premise is that the dominant group is committed
to shifting their attitudes and practices towards equality with the dominated
group. For this process to work, the dominant group must privilege the views
of the dominated group above their own (Pease, 2010a).
In the context of emancipatory action research, Wadsworth (1997) has
argued that research should be accountable to critical reference groups com-
prised of people whose interests are to be served by the research. This
transforms the roles of professionals and activists from experts to par-
ticipants who work alongside the oppressed as partners to address the
issues they identify as important. Such an approach is directly relevant to
profeminist research with men.
Conclusion
The theoretical, political and ethical positionings arising from particular

research paradigms will shape the methodological choices the researcher
makes (D’Cruz and Jones, 2004). Thus, we need to be aware of how our
own epistemological assumptions and political values shape the process of
knowledge construction. What is required for profeminist male researchers is
an ability to understand the various ways in which power operates through
whatever methodologies we use. Given that profeminist researchers are
concerned with transforming the world rather than just studying it, we
need to articulate the links between our epistemological stance and the
methodologies we use in our research (Pease, 2010b).
If all research reflects the standpoint of the researcher, researchers should
be clear about their beliefs regarding the nature of the phenomena under
investigation and their relationship to it. Our research questions will
be directly connected to our assumptions about life as well as what is
important to us (Pease, 2010b). We must all recognize the politics of our
Bob Pease 49
own societal-political location (Herising, 2005) and, if appropriate, inter-

rogate and decentre the privileged spaces that construct our identities and
subjectivities (Pease, 2010a).
I believe that it is fundamentally important for male researchers to keep
issues of power, privilege and positionality at the forefront of our analy-
sis (Johnston and Goodman, 2006). We all need to recognize the multiple
subjectivities we inhabit and to locate ourselves in relation to privilege and
oppression in our lives. Those of us who are most unmarked – white het-
erosexual, middle-class, able-bodied men – need to understand how our
subjectivities are constructed (Pease, 2012). This is necessary if we are to
engage in research with men that creates anti-patriarchal knowledge.
References
Ashe, F. (2007) The New Politics of Masculinity: Men, Power and Resistance (New York:
Routledge).
Canaan, J. and C. Griffin (1990) ‘The New Men’s Studies: Part of the Problem or Part of
the Solution?’ in J. Hearn and D. Morgan (eds) Men, Masculinities and Social Theory
(London: Unwin Hyman).
Cowburn, M. (2005) ‘Confidentiality and Public Protection: Ethical Dilemmas in
Qualitative Research with Adult Sex Offenders’, Journal of Sexual Aggression, 11,
49–63.
D’Cruz, H. and M. Jones (2004) Social Work Research: Ethical and Political Contexts
(London: Sage).
Delamont, S. and P. Atkinson (2008) ‘Editors’ Introduction’ in S. Delamont and
P. Atkinson (eds) Gender and Research, vol. 1 (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage).
Doucet, A. and N. Mauthner (2002) ‘Knowing Responsibly: Linking Ethics, Research
Practice and Epistemology’ in M. Mauthner, M. Birch, J. Jessop and T. Miller (eds)
Ethics in Qualitative Research (London: Sage).
Dougherty, D. (1999) ‘Dialogue through Standpoint: Women’s and Men’s Standpoints
of Sexual Harassment’, Management Quarterly, 12, 436–468.
Douglas, P. (1993) ‘Men Equals Violence: A Profeminist Perspective on Dismantling
the Masculine Equation’, Paper Presented at the Second National Conference on
Violence, Australian Institute of Criminology, Canberra, 15–18 June.
Dreher, T. (2009) ‘Listening Across Difference: Media and Multiculturalism Beyond
the Politics of Voice’, Continuum: A Journal of Media and Cultural Studies, 13,
625–628.
Ellsworth, E. (1989) ‘Why Doesn’t This Feel Empowering? Working through the
Oppressive Myths of Critical Pedagogy’, Harvard Educational Review, 59, 297–324.
Fellows, M. and R. Razack (1998) ‘The Race to Innocence: Confronting Hierarchical
Relations among Women’, Journal of Gender, Race and Justice, 1, 335–352.
Fawcett, B. and J. Hearn (2004) ‘Researching Others: Epistemology, Experience, Stand-
points and Participation’, International Journal of Research Methodology, 7, 201–218.
Flood, M. (1997) ‘Doing Research on Men and as Men: Politics and Problems’, Paper
Presented to the Masculinities and Renegotiating Genders Conference, University
of Wollongong, 20 June.
Grant, J. (1993) Fundamental Feminism: Contesting the Core Concepts (New York:
Routledge).
Halewood, P. (1995) ‘White Men Can’t Jump: Critical Epistemologies, Embodiment
and the Praxis of Legal Scholarship’, Yale Journal of Law and Feminism, 7, 1–36.
Hanmer, J. (1990) ‘Men, Power and the Exploitation of Women’ in J. Hearn and
D. Morgan (eds) Men, Masculinities and Social Theory (London: Unwin Hyman).
Harding, S. (1986) The Science Question in Feminism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press).
Harding, S. (1987) ‘Is there a Feminist Method?’ in S. Harding (ed.) Feminism and
Methodology: Social Science Issues (Bloomington: Indiana University Press).
Hearn, J. (1994) ‘Research in Men and Masculinities: Some Sociological Issues and
Possibilities’, Australian and New Zealand Journal of Sociology, 30, 47–70.
Hearn, J. (2007) ‘Methods, Methodology and Research’ in M. Flood, J. Gardiner,
B. Pease and K. Pringle (eds) International Encyclopedia of Men and Masculinities
(Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge).
Herising, F. (2005) ‘Interrupting Positions: Critical Thresholds and Queer
Pro/positions’ in L. Brown and S. Strega (eds) Research as Resistance: Critical,
Indigenous and Anti-Oppressive Approaches (London: Canadian Scholars’ Press).
Jackson, D. (1990) Unmasking Masculinity: A Critical Biography (London: Unwin
Hyman).
Johnson, A. (2006) Privilege, Power and Difference, 2nd edn (New York: McGraw Hill).
Johnston, J. and J. Goodman (2006) ‘Hope and Activism in the Ivory Tower: Freirean
Lessons for Critical Globalization Research’, Globalizations, 3, 9–30.
Jones, M. (1996) ‘Men and Feminist Research’ in J. Pilcher and A. Coffee (eds) Gender
and Qualitative Research (Aldershot: Avebury).
Klein, R. (1983) ‘How Do We Do What We Do?’ in G. Bowles and R. Klein (eds) Theories
of Women’s Studies (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul).
Kremer, B. (1990) ‘Learning to Say No: Keeping Feminist Research Methods for
Ourselves’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 13, 463–467.
Levinson, B. (1998) ‘How Can a Man Do Feminist Ethnography of Education?’
Qualitative Inquiry, 4, 337–368.
Lloyd, J. (2009) ‘The Listening Cure’, Continuum: A Journal of Media and Cultural Studies,
23, 477–487.
Macleod, C. (2007) ‘The Risk of Phallocentrism in Masculinities Studies: How a
Revision of the Concept of Patriarchy May Help’, PINS, 35, 4–17.
Maguire, P. (1987) Doing Participatory Research: A Feminist Approach (Amherst, MA:
University of Massachusetts).
May, L. (1998) ‘A Progressive Male Standpoint’ in T. Rigby (ed.) Men Doing Feminism
Messner, M. (1990) ‘Men Studying Masculinity: Some Epistemological Issues in Sport
Sociology’, Sociology of Sport Journal, 7, 136–153.
Mies, M. (1983) ‘Towards a Methodology for Feminist Research’ in G. Bowles and
R. Klein (eds) Theories of Women’s Studies (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul).
Morgan, D. (1981) ‘Men, Masculinity and the Process of Sociological Inquiry’ in
H. Roberts (ed.) Doing Feminist Research (London: Routledge).
Nicholls, R. (2009) ‘Research and Indigenous Participation: Critical Reflexive Meth-
ods’, International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 12, 117–126.
O’Donnell, P., J. Lloyd and T. Dreher (2009) ‘Listening, Pathbuilding and Continu-
ations: A Research Agenda for the Analysis of Listening’, Continuum: A Journal of
Media and Cultural Studies, 23, 423–439.
Bob Pease 51
O’Fallon, J.M. and C.C. Ryan (1989–1990) ‘Finding a Voice, Giving an Ear: Reflections
of Master/Slaves, Men/Women’, GA Law Review, 24, 883–907.
Pease, B. (1987) ‘Towards a Socialist Praxis in Social Work’, Master of Behavioural
Science dissertation, La Trobe University, Melbourne.
Pease, B. (1990) ‘Towards Collaborative Research on Socialist Theory and Practice in
Social Work’ in J. Petruchenia and R. Thorpe (eds) Social Change and Social Welfare
Practice (Sydney: Hale and Iremonger).
Pease, B. (1996) ‘Reforming Men: Masculine Subjectivities and the Politics and
Practices of Profeminism’, PhD dissertation, La Trobe University, Melbourne.
Pease, B. (2002) Men and Gender Relations (Melbourne: Tertiary Press).
Pease, B. (2009) ‘Immigrant Men and Domestic Life: Renegotiating the Patriarchal
Bargain’ in M. Donaldson, R. Hibbins, R. Howson and B. Pease (eds) Migrant
Men: Critical Perspectives on Masculinities and the Migration Experience (New York:
Routledge).
Pease, B. (2010a) Undoing Privilege: Unearned Advantage in a Divided World (London:
Sage).
Pease, B. (2010b) ‘Challenging the Dominant Paradigm: Social Work Research, Social
Justice and Social Change’ in I. Shaw, K. Briar-Lawson, J. Orme and R. Ruchdeschel
(eds) The Sage Handbook of Social Work Research (London: Sage).
Pease, B. (2012) ‘Interrogating Privileged Subjectivities: Reflections on Writing Per-
sonal Accounts of Privilege’ in M. Livholts (ed.) Emergent Writing Methodologies in
Feminist Studies (New York: Routledge).
Pease, B. and P. Crossley (2009) ‘Machismo and the Construction of Immigrant Latin
American Masculinities’ in M. Donaldson, R. Hibbins, R. Howson and B. Pease
(eds) Migrant Men: Critical Perspectives on Masculinities and the Migration Experience
Pease, B. and N. wa Mungai (2009) ‘Rethinking Masculinities in the African Diaspora’
in M. Donaldson, R. Hibbins, R. Howson and B. Pease (eds) Migrant Men: Critical
Perspectives on Masculinities and the Migration Experience (New York: Routledge).
Pheterson, G. (1986) ‘Alliances between Women: Overcoming Internalized Oppres-
sion and Internalised Domination’, Signs: Journal of Women, Culture and Society, 12,
146–160.
Philaretou, A. and K. Allen (2006) ‘Researching Sensitive Topics through
Autoethnographic Means’, The Journal of Men’s Studies, 14, 65–78.
Popoviciu, L., C. Haywood and M. Mac an Ghaill (2006) ‘The Promise of Post-
Structuralist Methodology: Ethnographic Representation of Education and Mas-
culinity’, Ethnography and Education,1, 393–412.
Robinson, V. (2003) ‘Radical Revisionings? The Theorizing of Masculinity and (Radi-
cal) Feminist Theory’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 26, 129–137.
Rowan, J. (1981) ‘A Dialectical Paradigm for Social Research’ in P. Reason and J. Rowan
(eds) Human Inquiry: A Sourcebook of New Paradigm Research (Chichester: Wiley).
Ryder, B. (1991) ‘Straight Talk: Male Heterosexual Privilege’, Queen’s Law Journal, 16,
287–312.
Stanley, L. and S. Wise (1983) Breaking Out: Feminist Consciousness and Feminist Research
Sundberg, J. (2011) ‘Masculinist Epistemologies and the Politics of Fieldwork in Latin
Americanist Geography’, The Professional Geographer, 55, 180–190.
Thorne-Finch, R. (1992) Ending the Silence: The Origins and Treatment of Male Violence
against Women (Toronto: University of Toronto Press).
Thurston, R. (1996) ‘ “Are You Sitting Comfortably?” Men’s Storytelling, Masculinities,

Prison Culture and Violence’ in M. Ghaill (ed.) Understanding Masculinities: Social
Relations and Cultural Arenas (Buckingham: Open University Press).
Wadsworth, Y. (1997) Do It Yourself Social Research (Sydney: Allen and Unwin).
Wadsworth, Y. and K. Hargreaves (1993) What is Feminist Research? (Melbourne: Action
Research Issues Association).
Wickramasinghe, M. (2010) Feminist Research Methodology: Making Meaning of Meaning-
Makings (London: Routledge).
4
Issues of Intimacy, Masculinity
and Ethnography
Tristan Bridges
Introduction
Crafting a research identity is a difficult thing to do. Like the performance

one puts on when teaching, a research identity is an important part of the
research project. The primary goal is to invite participation, which necessi-
tates paying close attention to the ways in which you (as the researcher) are
understood and defined by others. It means asking questions such as: How
will my research participants view me? How will I react if I find something
meaningful for my research? Should I react? What should I do if I see some-
thing illegal happen? As ethnographers, it is integral to the research that we
interact with others and participate in their lives meaningfully. It is through
such participation that new findings emerge and feminist methodologists
have long addressed questions related to researcher identity/ies and issues of
gender relations in the field (Foster, 1994; Stanko, 1994; DeVault, 1999).
Drawing on ethnographic and interview research with three separate
groups of men, this chapter critically examines some of the tensions inher-
ent in in-depth feminist qualitative research with men – particularly research
interrogating cultural ideologies of masculinity. In this chapter, I address my
research with a profeminist group I call Guys for Gender Justice, a fathers’
rights activist organization I refer to as Men Can Parent Too and a group
of male bar regulars whom I call The Border Boys. I studied each group
for roughly one year as a participant observer, interviewing participants
informally throughout the year and more formally at the conclusion.
In this research, I navigated a role that I refer to as the ‘least-masculine
role’, and I discuss its tenets here in addition to identifying some of the con-
sequences of adopting this role. The goal of this research role is not only to
diminish certain kinds of social distance (such as the researcher/researched
relationship) but also to encourage other kinds of social distance (such
as insider/outsider). Below, I outline my conceptualization of this research
role and present two examples from my research with Men Can Parent Too
53
54 Issues of Intimacy, Masculinity and Ethnography
to address some of the objectives and consequences of this role – and

potentially of feminist ethnographic research more generally. I conclude
by discussing some of the issues inherent in a great deal of ethnographic
work that seeks to understand issues of social inequality. Ethnographers
often passively (and sometimes actively) collude with sexist, heterosexist,
racist, classist behaviour and the ‘least-masculine role’ might be seen as no
exception to this rule.
The least-masculine role
Previous research suggests that when men study men – particularly research
on men’s relationship with gender inequality – men become conscious of
a ‘masculine self’1 that might be inadvertently threatened in the process
of the research (Messerschmidt, 1999; Schwalbe and Wolkomir, 2001). The
interview itself, for instance, can be interpreted as a threat (Weiss, 1994;
Luker, 2008) to the masculine self, exposing its weaknesses or, ultimately, its
inauthenticity (Sattel, 1976; Schwalbe and Wolkomir, 2001). Messerschmidt
(2000, p. 15) refers to this as a ‘masculinity challenge’ – ‘contextual interac-
tions that [result] in masculine degradation’. While men’s feelings of being
challenged and the behaviour that results are interesting data – as Schwalbe
and Wolkomir (2001) suggest – it is also data that results from men feeling
challenged to participate rather than invited. Scholars interested in learning
more about what men think and feel might find the task out of reach if men
cannot overcome this barrier to communication. It is for this reason that
Schwalbe and Wolkomir (2001) understand masculinity as both a problem
and a resource in research on men.
These issues become particularly pronounced in research with men who
subscribe to configurations of masculinity that prize stoicism and inexpres-
siveness. Jack Sattel (1976), in his classic article on ‘the inexpressive male’,
argued that men’s emotional reticence is a control strategy aimed at main-
taining and negotiating an advantage in interpersonal interactions. In effect,
Sattel was arguing that being inexpressive is one way that men ‘do’ masculin-
ity. But Sattel also understood that inexpressiveness is, for many men, a
situational phenomenon. Most men are not inexpressive with everyone,
everywhere. Rather, they pick and choose with whom to be expressive,
when, what kinds of places and so on. Relying on what I refer to as the
‘least-masculine role’ can be a helpful method of becoming someone with
whom otherwise inexpressive men are more likely to share.
I take the title of this research role from Mandell’s (1988) methodological
innovation for studying children: occupying what she refers to as the ‘least-
adult role’. When studying children, Mandell argues that diminishing social
distance is important, and other scholars have utilized this role in study-
ing children and young people more generally (Thorne, 1993; Pascoe, 2007;
Pugh, 2009). The least-masculine role is a bit different. For instance, while
Tristan Bridges 55
Mandell was attempting to symbolically reduce social distance between the

researcher and the researched, I was attempting to encourage men in my
study to experience some social distance between us to ensure that I did not
present a masculinity challenge. It was important to me that men felt the
need to explain things that they might not explain to other men.
For instance, men in the fathers’ rights group I studied (Men Can Parent
Too) often explained things to me in more detail than they did with one
another. At the group’s meetings, I was often whispered to by someone near
me to ensure I knew what was going on. Similarly, when among the bar reg-
ulars (The Border Boys), many of them continually felt the need to explain
what their various conversations were about, why some of them were angry
with others on particular nights and more. Certainly, some of this is part of
participant observation more generally. The status of being an ‘outsider’, if
one accepts the label willingly, often leads others to lead us around a bit. It is
this process of being ‘led around’ that often provides some of the most inter-
esting data. While Mandell (1988) was attempting to diminish her ‘outsider’
status among children, I utilized a ‘least-masculine role’ to encourage men
to understand me as a bit different than others in the group.
Though I understand masculinity to be a socially constructed category, the
men that I study often do not. I am using their understanding of masculin-
ity to define the ‘least-masculine role’. I strategically distanced myself from
some – though not all – of the masculinity performances others engaged
in not only to mark myself as different, but also to help classify myself as
a safe space where others could share their thoughts and feelings. There is
a tension here, however. If I presented myself as too different, it may have
been more difficult to get men to open up. Yet performing a masculinity that
was too similar would in some cases have necessitated engaging in behaviour
that would have challenged my core beliefs and values – colluding with their
anti-feminist behaviour, jokes and rhetoric.2 The least-masculine role is one
in which I attempted to walk a fine line between these two poles.
I performed this role in a few ways. I tried not to initiate conversation
changes a great deal early in my research. Joking and making fun of one
another was a constant source of competition and anxiety among the men
I studied, and I tried as best I could to stay out of these interactions. This
was difficult as joking was often a way men tested me when we first met.
I was often teased early in my research, and felt that my reactions were
being watched carefully. When this happened, I smiled, acknowledging the
joke, but did not respond in kind. I found that shaking hands, remembering
names and recalling information from previous conversations allowed me
to form intimate bonds with these men without engaging with their teas-
ing. I never attempted to attain status on the basis of being a ‘researcher’.
I also did many small things, like smiling a lot, taking men’s comments seri-
ously (even comments I was politically opposed to or that challenged core
beliefs I hold), and making sure not to offend anyone. While potentially
having nothing to do with masculinity, it was often apparent that these

things had everything to do with masculinity for many of the men I was
studying.
As a result of this research role, emotional reticence was not a problem
I encountered in my research. Men opened up with me. They shared difficult
feelings, discussed intimate issues and often cried during interviews. I did
find that I had sometimes inadvertently produced a more intimate relation-
ship with some research participants than I had intended and this produced
some research dilemmas I had not fully anticipated. Below, I address these
dilemmas and explore some ethical issues by addressing two separate cases
individually.
Issues of intimacy and masculinity
One of the first things that struck me about the men in the profeminist group
I studied – Guys for Gender Justice – was the level of comfort they had in dis-
cussing their feelings, their love lives, their struggles, failures, and more, with
other men. In this way, my interactions with them (formal and informal
interviews, participant observation at their homes, workplaces and more)
were not a great deal different from the interactions they seemed to have
with each other. With few exceptions, the things that they shared with me
privately were things they also shared with other men. This was much less
the case for the other two groups I studied.
Dave – one of three group organizers for the fathers’ rights group (Men Can
Parent Too) – was comfortable talking with me about emotionally difficult
issues. This level of comfort was rare among men in this group. Dave actually
warned me before I met the entire group for the first time that I should not
expect the other men to be so easy to talk to. Dave was right. The first two
months of my research with Men Can Parent Too were extremely difficult
and slow going, with one exception: Luke (about whom I will discuss more
below). Part of the process of studying a group of men such as Men Can
Parent Too was just being present – hanging out and allowing the men to
come to feel comfortable around me. I never missed group meetings and
I always showed up when anyone wanted to ‘hang out’ or needed to talk.
I behaved similarly with the bar regulars (The Border Boys). And by the end
of the study, I had more than one of my research participants comment on
how close they felt to me.
Keith’s and Travis’ comments (below) are a sample of the kinds of things
some of the men in Men Can Parent Too and The Border Boys shared with me
at the end of my research.
I really did think you were a bit of a puss when I first saw
you . . . I mean . . . I’m not tryin’ to start something . . . I’m just sayin’, you
Tristan Bridges 57
come off a little bit like that. [. . .] No, for real though, I did really like
bein’ able to talk and all that . . . I think I got a lot out that really I hold in
mostly. [. . .] You know what I mean . . . I’m just . . . Dudes don’t talk about
that kinda’ stuff . . . So, I mean . . . it’s just . . . So thanks or whatever.
(Keith, Men Can Parent Too)
[After the interview was over and I thanked him for participating:]
No man . . . thank you! It feels great to get to talk to somebody about
that shit. It’s really not the kind of thing I’ll just sit down and talk about
with another guy, you know? [. . .] Like, guys don’t just sit down and say
things like (laughing), ‘Hey man . . . do you think you’re really a man? Seri-
ously, I mean tell me how you feel.’ [. . .] Anyway, thank you for caring
dude . . . Seriously, thank you for caring about me.
(Travis, The Border Boys)
As is evident in both Keith’s and Travis’ comments, men in both of these

groups experienced talking with another man about gender, inequality and
their own lives as something out of the ordinary (and as a ‘feminine’ activ-
ity). Beyond that, many of the men interpreted my intrusions into their
lives and my questions as indicating a level of intimacy I had not initially
intended. I was thanked for my interviews with many of the men I stud-
ied, as both Keith and Travis did here. Jeffrey (a member of The Border
Boys) addressed the issue explicitly at the end of my research as well. He
told me: ‘It’s cool . . . I think it’s just the kind of thing guys talk with girls
about . . . Careful though, these guys are gonna think you’re their best friend
if you let ‘em tell you all about their issues’.
To these men, the ethnographer is a curious sort of person. I came into
their lives and wanted to hang out as much as they were willing. I seemed
interested in just about anything they had to say. I wanted to know all about
them: their struggles, their thoughts about the group, how they got involved
and so on. I took their ideas and opinions extremely seriously. I followed up
with them on previous conversations, letting them know that I was really
listening to them, perhaps in a way that is uncommon in their interactions
with others. The one thing that is missing from an intimate friendship is that
they did not know much about me. I was continually amazed that the men
in my study that did feel extremely close to me also knew almost nothing
about me.
Below, I briefly outline two cases in my research with Men Can Parent Too
in which intimacy led to some difficult decisions as a researcher. In each
case, my performance of the ‘least-masculine role’ – coupled with an intense
interest in their lives and a willingness to listen to them carefully when they
were ready to talk – was interpreted in ways I had not anticipated. Upon
reflection, some of these interpretations may have been the result of my
interactions with men in this study being of a qualitatively different sort

than they typically have with other men in their lives.
Luke – Men Can Parent Too

Luke was a relatively small part of my research, but part of an ethical
dilemma that I encountered very early in my fieldwork. Luke only came to
the first two meetings I attended with the fathers’ rights group, Men Can Par-
ent Too. These were his first two meetings with the group as well. At the very
first meeting, Dave introduced himself as the group organizer and talked
a bit about fathers’ rights and what he hoped each of the men would get
out of the group. After his brief introduction, he said that he wanted to go
around the circle and for each man to introduce himself and to say some-
thing about himself. He began, ‘I’m Dave and my ex-wife’s a bitch!’ A few
chuckled, but many of the men seemed alarmed by the comment. I did my
best to follow suit and just waited for something to happen. Dave, read-
ing the crowd, backed off a bit, saying, ‘I’m just kidding . . . ’ and continued,
‘and I’m a lawyer’. I was stunned that he would begin a meeting this way
and I’m sure my face betrayed these feelings whether or not I wanted to.3
Most of the men followed suit and the ‘something about yourself’ they
chose to share was their occupation. A few shared something about their
children.
Luke was seated such that he was among the last to share. Luke is a slight
man, white, roughly five and a half feet tall, with dirty blond hair. He was
sitting quietly, in khaki shorts, a polo shirt and a pair of old boat shoes
without socks listening carefully as each of the men before him introduced
themselves. When it was Luke’s turn to share he said, ‘I’m Luke’, took a deep
breath and continued, ‘I have two kids and I’m gay’. He started to smile as he
said it, seeming proud that he got it out, but his smile quickly faded as the
room went silent. Many of the men averted their eyes and shifted awkwardly
in their seats. I watched Luke as he looked around at the men, uncomfort-
ably wiggling in their seats. ‘Okay’, Dave jumped in, ‘Who’s next?’ The final
few men introduced themselves and Dave explained a bit more about the
group. I talked with Luke only briefly before he left, but I participated in the
silence after he came out of the group.
At the meeting the following week, I showed up five or ten minutes early
and about half of the men were already there. They each had a styrofoam cup
filled with coffee and a donut. All of the men were sitting next to someone
else getting to know one another – all of them, that is, except Luke. Luke was
sitting alone with a coffee cup on the floor between his legs, looking down
at the donut on a napkin on his lap. He looked out of place – and what first
interested me was that no one seemed to notice. Ultimately, I was unable to
sit by idly as Luke was obviously incredibly uncomfortable. So, I sat down
in the seat next to his. I asked Luke about his two daughters and what his
living situation was currently like. His wife had asked him to leave and he
Tristan Bridges 59
had rented a small apartment. He explained that it was temporary because

he needed to move somewhere that had more room so that his daughters
could stay with him. But, he added, his wife did not want them to stay with
him no matter how much room he had. When I asked why she wanted sole
custody, Luke looked at me and said, ‘I’ll give you one guess’.
I was presented with a difficult decision when I walked into that room.
I took a great deal of fieldnotes following the meeting examining my feelings
and whether I’d done the ‘right’ thing. As a researcher of gender and sexual
inequality, I was presented with an opportunity to see what would happen
as the rest of the men entered the room. Would Luke remain alone? Would
other men sit by his side?
After the meeting was over Luke told me that he was not going to come
back to another one. He decided that Men Can Parent Too was not a group
that had room for him, but said that he would still like to participate in
my study. I was excited to hear that he wanted to be a part of the project,
accepted, and we set up a time when I could visit his new apartment.
Over the course of the year that I studied Men Can Parent Too, I met with
Luke eight times and regularly exchanged emails and phone calls. I had not
intended to do so, but I inadvertently became one of Luke’s first allies after he
came out as gay. I was someone who supported him in a huge life transition
when others turned their backs on him. Luke lost his friends, his father, his
wife, and his children (he ultimately decided not to fight for joint custody
during my research). We still email each other occasionally, but I have not
talked or met with Luke in over two years now.
I bring Luke up here to discuss issues of intimacy and ethnography.
Though I hadn’t consciously considered this, I unintentionally became an
ally to Luke when his friends, family and systems of support were in short
supply. I gave him friendship and offered an ear when many people in his
life turned their backs on him. I believe he was interested in my project and
in helping me, but I also know that I had a great deal of power in the rela-
tionship. Though playing a least-masculine role could be argued to be little
more than good participant observation, my interactions with Luke led me
to believe that he viewed me as much more than a researcher – as a friend,
and one he relied on through difficult times. My adoption of this research
role is partially responsible for this relationship and the difficulty that may
have ensued when my study ended.
Studying gender and sexual inequality can be challenging because, while
it makes for good publications, it is often difficult to watch when it happens.
If we intervene, we might disrupt an interaction that could prove to be great
data, strikingly illustrating some pattern of social inequality we are studying.
Much of the research that we do highlights extremely intimate aspects of
people’s lives and we are often privy to extraordinarily intimate information.
What kind of effect does this have on our research participants? And how
are we to manage these relationships?
Martín – Men Can Parent Too

Martín joined Men Can Parent Too with incredible enthusiasm. He came to
virtually every group meeting, and regularly volunteered to participate in
protests, courtroom sit-ins and more. Martín identifies as Hispanic, has dark
brown skin and straight black hair and is originally from Belize. He moved to
the United States ‘to build a better life for [his] family’. What made Martín’s
case so interesting is that he was not getting a divorce; he was not fighting for
custody of his children and was not concerned with child-support payments.
Martín was married. His wife, Maria, wanted to move back to Belize to raise
their daughter around her extended family, but Martín wanted to remain
in the United States, despite the fact that he is extremely under-employed
here and has few prospects for advancement. He did seem to benefit from
the meetings with Men Can Parent Too; conversations about communicating
effectively with an ex-spouse were a popular topic, and communication was
an issue he was struggling with in his marriage.
Though distance from her family is a primary reason for Maria’s desire to
move back to Belize, the friends with whom Martín hangs out are also an
issue. Early in my research, Martín told me that his wife wanted him to have
‘better friends’. As I came to find – particularly after spending a night out
with Martín and his friends – by ‘better friends’, Maria meant men that had
‘real jobs’ as she put it. And Martín further interpreted this to mean white
men with ‘real jobs’.
The friends that Martín had made in the United States were almost uni-
versally restaurant employees, many of whom were here illegally. Martín
remained a part of Men Can Parent Too with the hopes of gaining some new
friendships with what he called ‘good men’ – which he later explained meant
‘white men’. I hung out with Martín a few times outside of the group meet-
ings. I came with him on one job where he unclogged a kitchen drain and
repaired a lock on a back door. I went out with him and his friends, I inter-
viewed him at the end of the study, and I hung out at his apartment once –
a visit I’ll briefly address below.
When I arrived at his apartment, Martín answered the door and invited
me in. I came in and first noticed the colourful woven blankets covering the
backs of their living room furniture and the crosses, candles and pictures of
Jesus that adorned the walls. Maria came in from the back room with their
daughter, Gloria, sleeping in her arms. Martín seemed excited to introduce
me: ‘This is Tristan, Maria – my friend from group’. Maria said hello and
I said something about their house being so beautiful. Maria put Gloria in
her room and came out and went directly into the kitchen. Moments later
she came back with water for both of us and some chips and fresh salsa. She
asked whether I wanted anything else to drink. I said water was fine and
thanked her. Martín requested a beer. She came back, brought a beer and
retreated to Gloria’s room again.
Tristan Bridges 61
Over the course of my visit, it became clear that Martín had told Maria that
I was a friend of his and had not explained anything about the study. In fact,
I was exactly the kind of man he was trying to befriend by joining Men Can
Parent Too. Though I had listened to him explain his desire to befriend white
men in the group, I had neglected to consider myself as potentially among
the men he wanted to befriend. I was not only a bit uncomfortable being
part of a lie that Martín was telling his wife, but also did not want to destroy
the relationship I had worked so hard to establish with him over the course
of the study. I ended up colluding with Martín during my visit telling myself
that no real harm was being done. That was the last time Martín invited me
over to his home.
Martín’s wife left at the end of my study, and I later found out that he
travelled back a few months after she left to be with her and his daughter.
The phone number I had for him is now disconnected and none of the
members of Men Can Parent Too have any information about what happened.
Martín is an interesting example of a difficult issue in ethnographic stud-
ies. Martín was desperate to find new friends with his level of education and
from the social class he felt most a part of in the United States. As a result
of racial inequality, Martín quickly learned to conflate race and class. He
seemed continually astonished when I asked him if I could hang out with
him outside the group setting for my research. The first time I asked him,
he said, ‘Me? . . . No, go out with these guys’, gesturing around towards the
other men in the group. It was about six months before he finally invited
me out for a night with his friends.
In the end, I believe that he did want to participate, but I realized after-
wards that I had not fully recognized the position of power I was in as a
researcher. Martín was in search of white men to hang out with and here
I was, a white man who wanted to hang out with him – for research. Many
of the men in Men Can Parent Too were in an emotionally fragile state during
my study and it was something to which I devoted a great deal of attention.
While the least-masculine role helped me ensure I did not challenge them in
this state, it also sometimes blurred the lines between researcher and friend
for many of them as they navigated their relationships with their ex-wives
and children. This is not to say that researcher and friend have to be separate
roles, but it is something that we have to consider as we participate in peo-
ple’s lives. Future studies of men in the fathers’ rights movement ought to
continue to pay close attention to the ethical dilemmas inherent in studying
populations eager for someone to listen to their frustrations.
Conclusion
In navigating a least-masculine role my goal was not to challenge the men

I studied as men. While many men feel in competition with others, I wanted
to create a relationship where they did not feel as though they had to prove
anything to me. I wanted to ensure that I was not seen as a threat or a

challenge, but as someone with whom they could share their thoughts and
feelings. Upon reflection, I was more successful in this endeavour in some
instances than others, but I still think it a worthwhile goal.
Ethnography uses participant observation as a method of uncovering the
intricacies of social life that might not be caught by other methods. Yet,
when performed well, the least-masculine role can lead others to understand
ethnographers less as participant observers and more as observant partic-
ipants, blurring the boundaries of the relationship. It is certainly a useful
way of helping men who struggle discussing emotional topics to open up
a bit, but most ethnographers (including me) leave their participants at the
end of the study. This can be abrupt and difficult. Many find, as I did, that
leaving the field can be just as difficult as entering it – though for very dif-
ferent reasons. Exit interviews played a large role in helping me navigate the
level of intimacy I had unintentionally produced. Interviewing the men at
the conclusion of the study allowed me to re-classify myself as a researcher,
and thank them for their participation, as well as speak privately with them
about their final thoughts and ideas. Some of the men from my project still
contact me, but many do not.
Throughout this study, I also found that I was often not in control of
the role I was taking as in the examples with Luke and Martín I discussed
above. When I interviewed men at the end of the study, my identity was
easily established. With paper, pen and recorder in front of me, they treated
me as a researcher. Over the course of my study with each of the groups,
however, I was sometimes ascribed a role I could not control. For instance,
I occupied the following roles: a confidant, a scholar, a friend, a therapist, an
outsider, a student and a teacher. By attempting to occupy a least-masculine
role, I think I was able to maintain rapport, but it also necessitated ignoring
many issues of inequality along the way.
For instance, although I did sit by Luke when the other men seemed to
ignore him, I never challenged any of the men when they objectified women
or made sexist and heterosexist comments in front of me. The majority of
the men in my study were heterosexual, in their 30s and white. Sharing
these characteristics with them could potentially have enabled me to dis-
rupt this kind of behaviour less than another scholar. But this is another
part of the tension within the least-masculine role: colluding with sexist and
heterosexist behaviour. In a great deal of instances throughout my study,
I was presented with an opportunity to challenge behaviour that is centrally
involved in the reproduction of gender and sexual inequality. I passed many
of these opportunities by and I think that my behaviour was likely inter-
preted no differently from any other bystander. Thus, the research identity
I adopted throughout this study not only did allow me to gather a great deal
of data, but also provided another yet another instance of the behaviour
going unchallenged.
Tristan Bridges 63
Notes
1. I am using ‘masculine self’ here as Brittan (1989) uses it, meaning a self complete
with the desires and facilities that secure membership among the dominant group
in gender relations.
2. This is an issue with which I also dealt in my study of ‘Walk a Mile in Her Shoes
Marches’ (Bridges, 2010) wherein groups of men walk one mile in high heels to
raise awareness of gender and sexual violence against women. A great deal of
behaviour that was at odds with the stated missions of the marches was present
in the marches themselves and studying this necessitated not challenging it while
it occurred.
3. Misogynistic and sexist comments were common among Men Can Parent Too and
The Border Boys, and negotiating reactions to them was a constant source of anxiety
for me as a researcher.
References
Bridges, T. (2010) ‘Men Just Weren’t Made to Do This: Performances of Drag at “Walk
a Mile in Her Shoes” Marches’, Gender & Society, 24, 5–30.
Brittan, A. (1989) Masculinity and Power (Oxford, UK: Basil Blackwell).
DeVault, M.L. (1999) Liberating Method (Philadelphia, PA: Temple UP).
Foster, J. (1994) ‘The Dynamics of Gender in Ethnographic Research: A Personal View’
in R.G. Burgess (ed.) Studies in Qualitative Methodology (Greenwich, CT: JAI).
Luker, K. (2008) Salsa Dancing into the Social Sciences (Cambridge: Harvard UP).
Mandell, N. (1988) ‘The Least-Adult Role in Studying Children’, Journal of Contempo-
rary Ethnography, 16, 433–467.
Messerschmidt, J.W. (1999) ‘Making Bodies Matter’, Theoretical Criminology, 3,
197–220.
Messerschmidt, J.W. (2000) ‘Becoming “Real Men” ’, Men and Masculinities, 2, 286–307.
Pascoe, C.J. (2007) Dude, You’re a Fag (Berkeley: University of California Press).
Pugh, A.J. (2009) Longing and Belonging (Berkeley: University of California Press).
Sattel, J. (1976) ‘The Inexpressive Male’, Social Problems, 23, 469–477.
Schwalbe, M. and M. Wolkomir (2001) ‘The Masculine Self as Problem and Resource
Stanko, E.A. (1994) ‘Dancing with Denial’ in M. Maynard and J. Purvis (eds) Research-
ing Women’s Lives from a Feminist Perspective (London: Taylor & Francis).
Thorne, B. (1993) Gender Play (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press).
Weiss, R.S. (1994) Learning from Strangers (New York: Free Press).
5
Negotiating Gender in Men’s
Research among Men
Michael Flood
Introduction
What happens when men are the subjects of research? Gender and other
forms of social difference are performed and negotiated in part through face-
to-face interactions, including through such research methods as interviews
and focus groups. When men or women conduct gender-conscious research
with male research subjects, a host of issues are raised: practical, political
and epistemological. This chapter explores three dimensions of face-to-face
research among men. It draws on the male author’s qualitative research
among young heterosexual men regarding their sexual and social relations
with women, as well as others’ gender-sensitive research among men in a
variety of settings and populations. First, what do men say in interviews
and focus groups, and how is this shaped by their interactions and rela-
tions with the researcher and with each other? Second, how do researchers
and research participants negotiate men’s power and privilege in face-to-
face research with men? Third, how do researchers and research participants
negotiate power relations among men themselves?
Men and feminist research
There are at least five dimensions to the relationships between men and
feminist scholarship: men as the political problem to which feminism
responds; men as objects of feminist scholarship; men as students of fem-
inist scholarship; men as agents of feminist scholarship; and men’s and
women’s institutional locations in producing scholarship about men. While
I have addressed some of these issues elsewhere (Flood, 2011), here I focus
particularly on the second and fourth of these: on the conduct of gender-
related research among men, and particularly by men. Conducting empirical
research on men and men’s place in gender relations raises dilemmas that are
methodological, political and epistemological.
64
Michael Flood 65
While there has now been substantial attention to the epistemological

and political issues at stake in men’s relationship to feminist knowledge
or feminist theory, there has been less attention to the practice of gender-
focused research among men. As is true of scholarship on gender in general,
most of this has come from women. There are now a range of productive
commentaries on negotiations of gender and sexuality in research on men
conducted by women. For example, some studies have documented that for
female researchers interviewing men, performing traditional femininity can
increase the likelihood of receiving unwanted sexual advances (Lee, 1997)
and can reinforce stereotypical sexist discourses of women as empathetic lis-
teners and facilitators of men’s narratives, but can also reduce the potential
threat experienced by male subjects (Horn, 1997). While traditional accounts
of methodology and research ethics have focused on risks to the researched,
women’s face-to-face research with men can involve risks for the researcher,
particularly when the interview topic is sexualized, including the possibil-
ities of flirting, unwanted sexual attention, the sense of going on a ‘blind
date,’ and sexual violence (McKee and O’Brien, 1983, p. 158; Lee, 1997).
(Male researchers too may be sexualized, as Walby (2010) documents, for
example, in his research on male commercial sex workers.)
While there are numerous accounts by female researchers of the signifi-
cance in research of their own gendered identities and relations, there are
very few from men (Robertson, 2006, pp. 302–303). But for men doing
research on men, there is a powerful rationale for critical reflection on their
research practice. First, for men in general, as members of privileged social
categories, critical reflection on our social locations is a necessary element
in strategies of resistance and change (Harding, 1991, p. 269). Indeed, ‘crit-
ical autobiography’ – the analysis and deconstruction of men’s own social
and historical formation as masculine subjects – is increasingly prominent
in masculinities scholarship. Second, ‘putting oneself in the picture’ is an
important methodological component of research. Feminist and qualitative
texts recommend a reflexive approach, where reflexivity involves a will-
ingness to locate oneself as an actor in the research process, recording the
subjective experiences of, and the intellectual autobiography of, the research
process (Edwards, 1993, p. 185). Third, critical reflection on one’s role in
knowledge production is a desirable element of progressive academic prac-
tice. All knowledge is socially located and its production is mediated by
power relations (Stanley and Wise, 1990, p. 39; Morgan, 1992).
In focusing on issues at stake in men doing research on men, I will
illustrate my discussion with reference particularly to my own PhD and post-
doctoral research. But I will also draw on other examples of gender-sensitive
research on men in a variety of settings, milieux and contexts. I should note
that I am concerned only with research that is self-consciously on men – that
is, which is ‘gender conscious’ or ‘gender sensitive’. I focus on feminist or
profeminist men’s research, although an increasing minority of scholarship
66 Negotiating Gender in Men’s Research among Men
self-consciously on men is antithetical to feminism. I am not concerned with

research that happens to be on male subjects, or on both men and women,
but is not concerned with questions of gender, although one may wish to
criticize the neglect of gender in such projects.
My own research has focused on the organization of heterosexual men’s
social and sexual lives and relations and the meanings given to these, what
I have described at times as the critical analysis of the sexual cultures of
heterosexual men. In my PhD, I examined young heterosexual men’s partic-
ipation in safe and unsafe heterosexual sex. I used semi-structured, in-depth
interviews with 17 men aged between 18 and 26 to explore men’s sex-
ual practices, and the meanings and socio-sexual relations through which
these were organized. Later, in postdoctoral research, I extended this into a
wider analysis of young heterosexual men’s socio-sexual relations, drawing
on in-depth interviews and focus groups with 90 men aged 16–24. I have
also conducted research on other practices and domains related to men,
gender, and sexuality, particularly men’s violence against women and its pre-
vention, fathering, and pornography. Across these, my work draws on both
materialist and cultural emphases in social theory, contributes to a critical
sociological scholarship concerned with questions of power, injustice, and
change, and involves engagement in activism and political advocacy.
The following discussion highlights three aspects of the social organi-
zation of men’s lives, which have implications for research on men, and
particularly male–male research: (a) male disclosure and homosocial inter-
action, (b) male privilege and sexism and (c) power relations between men.
I focus first on male–male interaction, and the typical forms of speaking,
behaving and relating, which are both a resource for and a constraint on
research on and by men.
Male disclosure and homosocial interaction
When I began my PhD, I was concerned that such gender-related qualita-

tive research on men ostensibly faces the problem that men are unwilling or
unable to speak personally, and that men’s dominant ways of speaking are
third-person, rationalistic, and factual (Jackson, 1990, pp. 271–273; Davies,
1992, p. 54). This view was supported by several interview-based studies
(McKee and O’Brien, 1983, pp. 151–152; Brannen, 1988, p. 556).
The sex of the interviewer also appeared to be significant here. According
to some early research, the following patterns are common, especially when
the content of the interview is sexual or personal, as Scully summarizes:
male interviewers get fewer responses than female interviewers, especially
with male subjects; and male interviewers elicit more information-seeking
responses, while female interviewers elicit greater self-disclosure and emo-
tional expressivity (Scully, 1990, p. 12). More recent research has continued
to suggest that there are subject areas where men are more comfortable
Michael Flood 67
speaking to women (Broom et al., 2009, p. 54). These results fit with gen-
eral patterns of emotional disclosure among men: men are said to be more
likely to confide in women, especially those with whom they are sexually
involved, while emotional intimacy among men is proscribed. Thus female
interviewers may have an advantage over male interviewers, and may be
less subject to the frequently punitive, disinterested and jokey character of
male–male talk (McKee and O’Brien, 1983, p. 153).
These portrayals in the literature seemed to place me at a disadvantage as
a male interviewer interviewing men, and when I started my PhD research
I feared that in the interviews with young heterosexual men I would face
stony silences and discomfort. While I had plenty of experience of intimate
and revealing personal conversations about emotional and sexual matters
with close male friends, I feared that this would not be possible in interviews
with total strangers. I felt nonetheless that there were significant political
and theoretical reasons why male researchers should conduct research on
men, and the disadvantages of doing so simply came with the territory.
My experience of qualitative research with men has not borne out this
depiction of male non-disclosure. In the PhD research, for example, all but
one of the 17 research participants offered high levels of personal disclosure;
none showed obvious signs of discomfort such as not answering questions
or resisting conversation; and all said that they had not found anything
difficult about participating. There were many moments of humour and
reflection. The one man who disclosed little was Dave, a man recruited from
the Westside Youth Centre (names and other details have been changed to
protect participants’ confidentiality). The interview with Dave was the most
difficult to conduct, in that he often gave monosyllabic answers to my ques-
tions, he paused repeatedly, and he offered sparse and halting narratives
of self, experience and meaning. Dave continued such patterns in a sec-
ond interview 12 months later, while reassuring me on both occasions that
he was comfortable with the interview process. However, Dave’s example is
unlikely to be evidence of masculine inexpressiveness, given the factors that
perhaps limit his ability and willingness to give detailed accounts of his life:
reported ‘learning difficulties’, sexual assault victimization, and intrusive
experience as a long-term ‘client’ of youth services and the welfare sector.
The patterns of male non-disclosure described in the early literature are
likely to be the product of more than the interviewees’ sex, reflecting more
complex interview dynamics and the operation not of ‘masculinity’ per se
but of particular masculinities structured by other social relations, and of
masculinities in interaction, namely between interviewer and interviewee.
For example, the willingness of particular men to talk about emotional
and sexual matters in an interview may be constituted by their age, class
or ethnicity. My young informants’ relative comfort with disclosure may
reflect generational differences among men, and it may also be shaped by
their largely middle-class, tertiary-educated and Anglo backgrounds. It may
also reflect the particular character of the interaction between myself and
the interviewees – the ways in which we were able to slide into familiar,
masculine modes of relating that facilitate personal disclosure, through our
respective subject positions (including our similar ages) and conversational
negotiations.
These possibilities raise a more substantial issue, to do with the premise on
which concerns about men’s ‘greater’ or ‘lesser’ disclosure are based. Talk of
‘lesser’ or ‘greater’ disclosure can imply a realist epistemology, which is also
evident in the notion of ‘matching’ interviewer and interviewee. Matching
research participants in terms of their positions in class, racial and gender
relations is often advocated in methodological ‘cookbooks’ as a way of min-
imizing power inequalities and increasing empathy and rapport. However, if
one assumes that accounts given in interviews are negotiated constructions
rather than repositories of a unitary truth and that knowledges are situated,
it becomes more important to analyse accounts within the context of the
interview itself (Phoenix, 1994, p. 66).
In my research with young heterosexual men, one of the most striking pat-
terns has been the presence of homosocial storytelling. Heterosexual men
talk about sex in different ways in different social contexts and different
conversational interactions, and this is part of general variations in their
presentation of self (Wight, 1996, p. 2; Hillier et al., 1999, p. 73). Research
has documented that young heterosexual men often talk about sex and inti-
macy in differing ways in mixed-sex groups, compared to all-male groups,
compared to one on one with a female friend, compared to one on one
with a male friend. For example, some of my interviewees described the
exchange of stories of sexual exploits and commentary on the attractive-
ness and desirability or otherwise of women passing by, typically using blunt
and sometimes humorous colloquial language, and this form of talk was
most common in all-male groups. With their female partners on the other
hand, men may engage not only in talk that is more respectful, romantic and
sensual, but also in sexually explicit talk such as ‘talking dirty’ during sex.
In different interactions and contexts, there is variation in the explicitness of
men’s sexual talk, their use of romance- and intimacy-focused discourses, the
extent of their emotional expressiveness, the degree to which their accounts
are accepting of and respectful towards women or hostile and sexist and
so on. While I focus here on the issue of male disclosure, in the following
section I address the ethics and politics of hearing men’s sexist and hostile
stories.
Among heterosexual men, cultures of sexual storytelling develop partic-
ularly in deeply homosocial and masculine contexts, such as male prisons,
all-male workplaces and military institutions (Flood, 2008). In my PhD inter-
views, two of the men from a military university offered highly rehearsed
sexual stories that they have also told in the homosocial culture of sex-
ual storytelling on the military campus. These were detailed stories about
sexual episodes, whether involving one’s good fortune, sex with prized or
Michael Flood 69
‘shocking’ women, or one’s depravity and ill fortune. In the interviews, while
the young men involved in this storytelling culture described their participa-
tion in such styles of talk, they also offered these stories directly. In fact, the
two young military men told virtually identical stories in separate interviews
about particular sexual episodes in which they had both been involved.
In such instances, male participants’ accounts in interviews are likely to
be shaped by the sex of the interviewer, with men feeling more able to
offer to a male interviewer the stories that they also offer to male audiences
elsewhere. In my research, I have no way of comparing the interviewees’
responses to those given to a female interviewer. However, other studies sug-
gest that there are systematic contrasts in men’s presentations of gender
to male and female researchers. In qualitative research at a US univer-
sity, Sallee and Harris (2011) found, for example, that men interviewed
by a male researcher were more likely than those interviewed by a female
researcher to support and to demonstrate sexually objectifying behaviours.
They described their focus on women’s physical and sexual attributes and
gave detailed accounts of their involvements in sexually objectifying inter-
actions, using graphic descriptions of female bodies and body parts. On the
other hand, men interviewed by the female researcher used more clinical
and academic language, gave greater acknowledgement of how men’s talk
about sex can objectify women and contribute to gender inequality, and
emphasized their own discomfort with or resistance to their peers’ sexist
and objectifying talk.
The accounts given by men in interviews and focus groups are inher-
ently partial, and incomplete (Frankenberg, 1993, p. 41). Interview data is
never ‘raw’ and always both situated and textual (Silverman, 1993, p. 200).
People’s accounts of their lives are contextual, interactional and dynamic –
they change in different settings and to different audiences and over time.
At the same time, people also come to tell stories about themselves, which
are repeated and even ritualized: ‘I’ve always been the kind of man who . . . ’,
‘I fell in love with her when . . . ’. They do so in part because they have been
constituted as particular kinds of subjects, through discourse and their lived
experience of the social order.
Given patterns of homosocial talk, one strategy in men’s research with
men is to actively use patterns of male–male talk to advantage, adopting
them to encourage disclosure. If male interviewers are more likely to be sub-
ject to jokey male talk, as McKee and O’Brien (1983) argue, this talk is an
empirical resource in interviewing rather than simply a hindrance. In my
interviews, forms of male homosocial talk such as the telling of sexual sto-
ries and jokey banter have been an important source for insights into men’s
understandings of sexual relations, and I give space to them and ‘play along’
with them when they occur. In other words, I draw on my own familiar-
ity with and embeddedness in masculinity and borrow from the norms of
culturally approved male-to-male relationships (McKegany and Bloor, 1991,
pp. 199–200). However, in recent interviews I did not explicitly invite a
stereotypically masculine banter throughout the interviews, and this was

less likely anyway given the participants (strangers rather than friends), the
location (my office rather than a pub or other social space), and the inter-
action (a strange kind of conversation in which one participant mainly asks
questions).
There are instances in male–male research where both the researcher and
the researched enact idealized constructions of masculinity and masculine
sexuality (Broom et al., 2009, p. 58). Both male and female researchers
may ‘bond over gender’, using shared discussion of their experience of
stereotypically gendered pursuits to create reciprocity and trust with partic-
ipants. Sharing commonalities based on gender is a resource for qualitative
interviewing. At the same time, it also risks over-intensifying the data’s doc-
umentation of dominant constructions of gender and suppressing those
aspects of participants’ experience, which do not fit them (Broom et al.,
2009, pp. 60–62).
There are other aspects of homosocial interaction, which are less useful for
research and which I have avoided in my face-to-face research. I am thinking
of men’s hostile and punitive reactions to other men who venture beyond
codes of masculinity, reactions that involve challenging the speaker’s mas-
culinity or heterosexuality. At times therefore, I hope that the use of less
stereotypically masculine interactional and conversational styles, as well as
general interviewing techniques, will lessen men’s unwillingness to speak of
their emotional and sexual lives. I distinguish here, therefore, between being
positioned as ‘male’ per se by the interviewees and the particular gendered
performances I adopt.
Male privilege and sexism
The relationship between masculinity and the subordination of women

raises vital issues for men’s research on men. Should feminist research with
men be ‘empowering’? What are some characteristic political dangers of
men’s gender-related research with men?
Feminist methodological ideals in the 1970s and early 1980s included
the norm of sympathetic, egalitarian and empowering research by women
on women. Visions of interviewing women represented it as therapeutic,
in a liberal revision of the practice of consciousness raising (Oakley, 1981;
Finch, 1984). More recently, such visions have been radically questioned,
with acknowledgment of the diversities and power relations between women
themselves and more complex understandings of research processes. Kelly
et al. (1994) criticize the notion of ‘empowerment’ as glib and simplistic,
citing the lack of common perspectives and experiences among women and
the fact of dominant–subordinate relations between women. They urge that
we investigate, rather than assume, the meaning and impact of research on
its participants.
Michael Flood 71
Feminist norms for the ‘sympathetic’ interviewing of women are

inappropriate in interviewing men, or women, who are privileged or
engaged in oppressive practices. Feminist calls for empathetic and non-
hierarchical modes of research can run counter to the accompanying call
for emancipatory research, especially in researching men (Davidson and
Layder, 1994, p. 217) or anti-feminist women (Andrews, 2002). Indeed,
women’s interviews with men can involve risks for the interviewer (McKee
and O’Brien, 1983, p. 158; Lee, 1997). There are times when one may want
to ‘interview without sympathy’, such as when researching convicted rapists
or the male clients of sex workers (Scully, 1990; Davidson and Layder, 1994,
pp. 216–217).
While research with men does not have to be ‘empowering’, must the
researcher adopt a neutral façade? Scully adopted this approach when inter-
viewing rapists, disguising how she felt about the interviewees and their
stories. This involved a difficult trade-off between the unintentional com-
munication of her agreement or approval, and the potential destruction of
the rapport and trust, which were necessary for the interviews to proceed
(Scully, 1990, pp. 18–19). I adopted a similar approach in my research. I con-
cealed my own critical analysis and rejection of patriarchal masculine and
heterosexual practices, in effect condoning these when they were reported
or enacted. My ethical discomfort at doing so was only mitigated by a prag-
matic concern with interview rapport and trust, and an awareness of the
progressive political uses to which this research can be put.
Given the pervasiveness of gender inequality, scholars doing research
among men must judge the extent to which they will collude with sexism
and subordination. For profeminist men as for feminist women, especially
in masculine settings or among mainstream men, fieldwork or interviewing
typically involves listening to talk and being in the presence of prac-
tices, which one finds offensive and disturbing. Moreover, given the often
homosocial dynamics of gender inequality (Flood, 2008), male researchers
may be particularly likely to collude in sexism. In my PhD research, I found
the interviews with two of the men from the military university in particu-
lar to be draining and troubling, as they told elaborate and to them hilarious
stories about their blunt mistreatment of women. I had already decided that
I could not react in the way I would normally to such stories. I took the
general stance of adopting a similar demeanour to the informants’, trying,
for example, to laugh along if they laughed. This is still different to how a
friend of the storyteller might react, slapping his thigh with laughter and
telling a sexist story of his own, and some men undoubtedly were aware
of my difference from them. Nevertheless, my neutral interviewing practice
meant that I condoned performances or endorsements of sexism when they
were offered.
For profeminist male researchers to conduct such research is to adopt
the status of the ‘outsider within’. We put on an impression-management
face to pass, conceal our true intentions and suppress our emotional and
political reactions to what is said or done. I agree with Schacht that this is
emotionally taxing work, and it can feel like a betrayal of one’s values and
a potential betrayal of the research subject (Schacht, 1997). Such research
not only involves positioning oneself in a contradictory social location that
includes inherent tensions, but also involves a critical and useful vantage
point. Schacht describes his pragmatic adoption of a kind of emotional
detachment in order to establish relations and to survive his feelings of self-
estrangement, which is familiar to me as well. Profeminist men’s ability to
conduct research in masculine settings is facilitated by our own training in
dominant codes of masculine performance.
In line with another norm in much of the literature on feminism and
methodology, I believe that one’s research should ‘make a difference’ – it
should increase the possibilities for progressive social change. But is the
research situation itself to be the site in which change is made? Authors such
as Kelly et al. (1994, pp. 36–39) say ‘yes’, arguing for the use of ‘challeng-
ing methods’ that question oppressive attitudes and behaviours. I agree with
Glucksmann (1994, p. 151) that research has important limitations as a locus
of political activity. Furthermore, ‘challenging methods’ may undermine the
rapport, which is a precondition for interviewees’ disclosure. On the other
hand, however, even just asking men to reflect on their own involvements
in oppressive practices, such as rape, can prompt personal change (Sikweyiya
et al., 2007, p. 56).
Power relations between men
The social organization of men’s lives in most contemporary societies

includes power relations between men themselves. One aspect of such
power relations, which deserves particular mention in relation to male–male
research, is homophobia. Male–male research involves the negotiation of
tensions and fears to do with homophobia and heterosexism (McKegany and
Bloor, 1991, p. 204). During the interviews I have conducted with young het-
erosexual men, I have been conscious of ‘performing’ masculinities, through
speech, dress, body language and demeanour. While I am heterosexual,
I have sometimes been perceived as gay because of earrings in both ears;
a somewhat feminized body language; my wearing of anti-homophobic and
AIDS-related T-shirts; and, of course, my political and intellectual positions.
While most of these were not visible or known to the research participants,
I wondered if they would assume I was gay as well, and if this might make
them uncomfortable or influence their comments on AIDS or gay men or
other topics. In order to minimize the men’s potential homophobic discom-
fort, in the interviews I have ‘outed’ myself as heterosexual through casual
comments on current or previous female sexual partners. This involves a
kind of collusion with heterosexism.
Michael Flood 73
In investigating safe and unsafe sex, sexual and reproductive health,

violence against women and pornography, I have found myself con-
ducting research that is widely identified as ‘sensitive’. Research on sex
and sexualities in particular is commonly regarded as ‘sensitive’ research
(Brannen, 1988; Renzetti and Lee, 1993). Sensitive research can be threat-
ening to informants in three ways: intruding into private, stressful or sacred
areas; revealing information that is stigmatizing or incriminating; or imping-
ing on political interests (Lee, 1993, p. 4). Research on sexual behaviour
does all three. Sex research, like all sensitive research, also involves poten-
tial threats to the researcher. Researchers on human sexuality are often
stigmatized, and their interest may be assumed to be the product of psycho-
logical disturbance, sexual ineptitude or lack of sexual prowess (Lee, 1993,
pp. 9–10). Researchers may suffer ‘stigma contagion’, in which they come to
share the stigma attached to those being studied (Lee, 1993, p. 9). In my own
research, I have been advised by a relative to ‘be careful not to catch AIDS’.
Others have assumed that I must be gay given the widespread conflation
of AIDS and homosexuality, or even paradoxically because I am researching
heterosexual men. (Many of the men doing AIDS-related research are gay or
bisexual, and thus AIDS-related prejudice and homophobia are not the only
factors operating here).
There are four further dimensions of face-to-face research among men,
which deserve greater exploration than has been given here. First, both the
researcher and the researched may ‘do’ gender in diverse ways in the research
context. For example, Robertson (2006, pp. 311–312) notes the ways in
which he and his male research participants performed and co-constructed
both complicit and hegemonic masculinities at different times in their inter-
actions. In the context of queer sexualities, Walby (2010) describes forms
of male–male interaction in research encounters, which are not scripted by
hegemonic masculinity.
Second, the salience of gender and gender identities (and of other forms
of social difference) among research participants is shaped by the research’s
content. As one might expect, there is evidence that gender becomes partic-
ularly salient in studies focused on gender (Sallee and Harris, 2011, p. 412).
Male participants may engage in more pronounced ‘gender identity work’
in research projects focused on gender, and especially so when construc-
tions of hegemonic masculinity are challenged (Pini, 2005, p. 212). With
topics such as sexual performance, which are tied closely to hegemonic con-
structions of masculinity and masculine sexuality, men may be more likely
to describe or perform hegemonic masculinities themselves (Broom et al.,
2009, p. 57). Hence, as Schwalbe and Wolkomir (2001, p. 91) note, under-
standing the workings of gender in research involves moving beyond ‘Who
is asking whom?’ to ‘Who is asking whom about what?’
Research’s gendered dynamics also are influenced by its context, and this
is the third dimension of research among men, which deserves attention.
We must address the wider contexts – the gender regimes and relations –
which structure men’s participation and performance as research subjects.
As Pini (2005, p. 204) emphasizes, we must go further and ask, ‘Who is ask-
ing whom about what and where?’ The research context includes both the
immediate interview environment and the wider institutional and cultural
context (Broom et al., 2009).
Fourth, gendered dynamics intersect with those associated with other
forms of social difference including age, sexuality, class and personal biog-
raphy. While this chapter focuses on the workings of gender in men’s social
research with men, other axes of social difference are also in operation
in the research context. A full account of gender’s mediation of the pro-
duction and analysis of qualitative data must include these (Broom et al.,
2009).
Conclusion
Scholarship on gender now gives growing attention to how gender is per-

formed, achieved or ‘done’. The three dimensions of men’s face-to-face
research among men discussed here are only part of a wide variety of ways
in which gender may be performed and negotiated in research interactions.
Such encounters are opportunities to signify, shift and resist masculinities
(Schwalbe and Wolkomir, 2001).
For men or women doing gender-based research, a number of practical
implications suggest themselves. Whether conducting same-sex or cross-
sex research, researchers should be attentive to the gendered positions
and expectations of both researcher and researched and reflexive about
their own gender performance in the research process (Sallee and Harris,
2011, pp. 426–427). Focused efforts at reflexivity may be embedded in
the research process from the beginning, or constructed retrospectively
through examination of research field notes and the recoding, for exam-
ple, of transcribed interviews (Robertson, 2006, p. 306; Broom et al., 2009,
p. 54). As Robertson (2006, p. 309) emphasizes, critical reflexivity involves
examination of both personal, subjective experience (with all its poten-
tial ambivalences, contradictions and fluidities) and structured, inequitable
power relations.
Greater attention to the gendered processes at play in men’s research
with men is of both political and methodological value. Politically, such
attention highlights men’s often privileged social locations and the power
dynamics and inequalities, which are the context for knowledge produc-
tion. Methodologically, such attention increases understanding of how
our data are produced and how to make sense of them. The gendered
dynamics of men’s face-to-face research with men are not necessarily obsta-
cles to data, but also themselves rich sources of data regarding men and
gender.
Michael Flood 75
References
Andrews, M. (2002) ‘Feminist Research with Non-Feminist and Anti-Feminist
Women’, Feminism and Psychology, 12, 55–77.
Brannen, J. (1988) ‘Research Note: The Study of Sensitive Subjects’, Sociological Review,
36, 552–563.
Broom, A., K. Hand and P. Tovey (2009) ‘The Role of Gender, Environment and Indi-
vidual Biography in Shaping Qualitative Interview Data’, International Journal of
Social Research Methodology, 12, 51–67.
Davidson, J.O. and D. Layder (1994) Methods, Sex and Madness (London and New York:
Routledge).
Davies, D. (1992) ‘Women’s Subjectivity and Feminist Stories’ in C. Ellis and M.G.
Flaherty (eds) Investigating Subjectivity (Newbury Park: Sage).
Edwards, R. (1993) ‘An Education in Interviewing’ in C.M. Renzetti and R.M. Lee (eds)
Researching Sensitive Topics (Newbury Park: Sage).
Finch, J. (1984) ‘It’s Great to Have Someone to Talk to’ in C. Bell and H. Roberts (eds)
Social Researching (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul).
Flood, M. (2008) ‘Men, Sex, and Homosociality’, Men and Masculinities, 10, 339–359.
Flood, M. (2011) ‘Men as Students and Teachers of Feminist Scholarship’, Men and
Masculinities, 14, 135–154.
Frankenberg, R. (1993) White Women, Race Matters (London: Routledge).
Glucksmann, M. (1994) ‘The Work of Knowledge and the Knowledge of Women’s
Work’ in M. Maynard and J. Purvis (eds) Researching Women’s Lives from a Feminist
Perspective (London: Taylor and Francis).
Harding, S. (1991) Whose Science? Whose Knowledge? (Milton Keynes: Open University
Press).
Hillier, L., L. Harrison and K. Bowditch (1999) ‘ “Neverending Love” and “Blowing
Your Load” ’, Sexualities, 2, 69–88.
Horn, R. (1997) ‘Not “One of the Boys”: Women Researching the Police’, Journal of
Jackson, D. (1990) Unmasking Masculinity (London: Unwin Hyman).
Kelly, L., S. Burton and L. Regan (1994) ‘Researching Women’s Lives or Studying
Women’s Oppression?’ in M. Maynard and J. Purvis (eds) Researching Women’s Lives
from a Feminist Perspective (London: Taylor and Francis).
Lee, R.M. (1993) Doing Research on Sensitive Topics (London: Sage).
Lee, D. (1997) ‘Interviewing Men’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 20, 553–564.
McKee, L. and M. O’Brien (1983) ‘Interviewing Men’ in E. Gamarnikow et al. (eds) The
Public and the Private (London: Heinemann).
McKegany, N. and M. Bloor (1991) ‘Spotting the Invisible Man’, British Journal of
Sociology, 42, 195–210.
Oakley, A. (1981) ‘Interviewing Women’ in H. Roberts (ed.) Doing Feminist Research
Phoenix, A. (1994) ‘Practising Feminist Research’ in M. Maynard and J. Purvis (eds)
Researching Women’s Lives From a Feminist Perspective (London: Taylor & Francis).
Pini, B. (2005) ‘Interviewing Men’, Journal of Sociology, 41, 201–216.
Renzetti, C.M. and R.M. Lee (1993) ‘The Problems of Researching Sensitive Topics’ in
C.M. Renzetti and R.M. Lee (eds) Researching Sensitive Topics (Newbury Park: Sage).
Robertson, S. (2006) ‘Masculinity and Reflexivity in Health Research with Men’,
Auto/Biography, 14, 302–19.
Sallee, M.W. and F. Harris III (2011) ‘Gender Performance in Qualitative Studies of
Masculinities’, Qualitative Research, 11, 409–429.
Schacht, S.P. (1997) ‘Feminist Fieldwork in the Misogynist Setting of the Rugby Pitch’,
Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 26, 338–363.
Schwalbe, M. and M. Wolkomir (2001) ‘The Masculine Self as Problem and Resource
Scully, D. (1990) Understanding Sexual Violence (Boston: Unwin Hyman).
Sikweyiya, Y., R. Jewkes and R. Morrell (2007) ‘Talking about Rape’, Agenda, 74, 48–57.
Silverman, D. (1993) Interpreting Qualitative Data (London: Sage).
Stanley, L. and S. Wise (1990) ‘Method, Methodology and Epistemology in Femi-
nist Research Processes’ in L. Stanley (ed.) Feminist Praxis (London and New York:
Routledge).
Walby, K. (2010) ‘Interviews as Encounters’, Qualitative Research, 10, 639–657.
Wight, D. (1996) ‘Beyond the Predatory Male’ in L. Adkins and V. Merchant (eds)
Sexualising the Social (Hampshire and London: Macmillan).
6
Making Connections: Speed Dating,
Masculinity and Interviewing
Máirtín Mac an Ghaill, Chris Haywood and Zoë Bright
Introduction
The rapid rise in the number of studies on men and masculinities has led
to an increasing visibility of the role of masculinity within the research pro-
cess. Feminist research approaches have provided crucial insights into how
gender informs the research process, including epistemological approaches,
data collection strategies and analysis (see Jaggar, 2008; Hesse-Biber, 2011).
Questions of whether the sex of the interviewer, the clothes of the inter-
viewer, what questions are asked and how to improve trust, as well as
the validity and reliability of results, have provided invaluable insight into
the different ways that gender operates within the research context. This
chapter contributes to this discussion by highlighting the importance of
critically reflecting on the ways theories of masculinities will shape how
interviews are ‘read’. As such, theories of masculinity do not stand out-
side of knowledge production; rather, they actively inflect what knowledge
is seen to be produced. As Robb (2004, p. 396) argues, in his study of
fatherhood and masculinity, ‘reflecting critically on the experience of inter-
viewing men about fatherhood prompted questions about the influences
involved in the negotiation of masculine identities in the research pro-
cess.’ It is suggested that how we theorize masculinity will shape how the
relationship between the researcher and the participants is interpreted. Fur-
thermore, by suggesting that there are different ways of conceptualizing
male subjectivities, we locate Hebert’s (2007, p. 33) assertion that ‘the femi-
nist preoccupation with problematizing the essentialization of “women” has
not been met by a corresponding problematization of the essentialization
of “men” ’ as central to the discussion of men, masculinity and research
practice.
The study of masculinity contains a vast array of theoretical frameworks,
such as biological approaches, role theory, relational theories, post-structural
and queer theories (see Pease, 2000; Khan, 2009). One of the main
77
78 Making Connections
approaches to understanding masculinity utilizes notions of patriarchy,

where men’s identities are constituted through systemic inequalities embed-
ded in relationships between men and women. Importantly, patriarchy has
been identified as shaping the relationships between researchers and partic-
ipants. Herod (1993, p. 306) suggests that interviews ‘cannot be conceived
as taking place in a gender vacuum’ and discusses both the unequal power
relations between women and men and the problems of competitive mas-
culinity when men interview men (Herod, 1993, pp. 308–309). Schwalbe and
Wolkomir (2003) recognize the diversity of men’s identities but suggest that
cultural ascriptions associated with masculinity will present common prob-
lems when interviewing men. They argue that western culture impels men to
be part of a dominant group that prioritizes ‘control, autonomy, rationality,
risk-taking and heterosexual conquest’ as part of their identities (Schwalbe
and Wolkomir, 2003, p. 57). The interview operates as an opportunity to
display masculinity, but also a space where masculinities are under threat.
They are under threat as the questioning and revelation within the inter-
view situation can identify how masculinities are staged and thus may result
in a particular quality of information. In contrast, the use of patriarchal priv-
ilege in the interview situation may become a productive conduit for data
collection. As Arendell (1997, p. 347) suggests, ‘men disclosed their experi-
ences and feelings to me in the depth and emotional detail which they did
because I am a woman’. In summary, the theoretical frame that is used to
explain masculinity provides the basis on which gender is configured and
lived out within the research context.
At the same time, approaches to the study of masculinity have emerged
that question the ubiquity of patriarchal structures that are deemed to under-
pin masculinity. For example, Moller (2007, p. 266) argues that by locating
masculinity within power relations that are politically charged with notions
of ‘domination, subordination and oppression’, we are limiting what we are
able to know about men’s lives. He argues that by recognizing articulations
of power that are not embedded in the reproduction of inequality, such
as ‘negotiation and consensus building’, we are able to unpack a different
understanding of masculinity (Moller, 2007, p. 266). In response, it could
be argued that relationships constructed through consensus and negotiation
can often implicitly serve to reinforce gendered inequalities. For example,
Blackmore (1997) points out that the shift towards consensus building can
be seen as an example of a ‘strategic hegemonic masculinity’. In her review
of educational organization, consensus building and negotiation were part
of a remaking of hegemonic masculinity within contemporary discourses of
neoliberalism. However, Moller challenges the understanding of masculinity
that ultimately has to be reducible to structures of inequality. More specif-
ically, a model of masculinity embedded with patriarchal privilege, such as
hegemonic masculinity:
Máirtín Mac an Ghaill, Chris Haywood and Zoë Bright 79
. . . conditions researchers to think about masculinity and power in

a specific and limited way: that masculine power is possessive and
commanding and that it is exercised by an identifiable few who can then
be rightly (even righteously) criticised. This is, I suggest, a rather for-
mulaic mode of thinking about power with which most of us are very
familiar.
(Moller, 2007, p. 268)
Drawing upon the work of Susan Bordo (1994), Moller argues that research
on masculinity should focus on men’s weakness, vulnerability and disem-
powerment. The emphasis in Moller’s research is on challenging models
of masculinity that are read through domination and subordination. The
implication is that the dynamics through which masculinities are made
may use a different set of values, or as Parlow (2011, p. 214) suggests,
when interviewing men in clinical settings: ‘The new phallic touchstone for
them was not a meeting of machismo standards but a finding of authentic
expression for their personal take on things.’ It could be argued that in the
context of the emergence of self-reflexive subjects in the conditions of late
modernity, masculinities are characterized by feelings of ambivalence and
anxiety. Importantly, as Noble (2006, pp. 32–33) suggests:
It means for a man to speak about his gender in a critical self-conscious

manner already means that somehow he has failed to live up to the
patriarchal ideal and imperative that he not think and know masculinity
but that he be the man, which means to be the universal subject.
The implication of this approach is that we need to consider how the

gendered relationships taking place within interviews are not self-evident.
We suggest that in order to understand the interview situation, we need
to think through interviews as the negotiation of masculine subjectivities
that are (dis)located across traditional and contemporary gendered identity
formations. According to Edwards and Usher (1997, p. 255), (dis)location
is ‘where the bracket signifies that location and dislocation are simulta-
neous moments always found together, a positioning with simultaneously
one and many positions’. The research process provides a context for the
(dis)location of masculinity as competing discourses circulating through
patriarchal privilege and strategies of masculine identity formation that
may not be contained through and within patriarchal structures. In order
to explore this further, this chapter focuses upon a number of themes.
First, we provide a brief summary of the research context, and second,
we explore how men draw upon dating protocols in order to navigate
research relationships. Third, we look at the issue of ‘getting close’, and
the implications of validation hermeneutics when researching masculinity.
Finally, we emphasize the importance of critically reflecting on the nature of

masculinity when examining the objectification of the researcher’s body.
The research project
The rapid proliferation of information and communication technolo-

gies, and the increasing commodification of dating, are providing new
possibilities for people to initiate and develop romantic and intimate rela-
tionships. The use of mobile phone communities, telephone chat lines,
online dating sites, TV and radio game shows and commercial dating agen-
cies have been identified as important areas for the exploration of the
changing nature of intimacy. The research reported here examines this cul-
tural trend by exploring the phenomenon of ‘speed dating’. Speed dating
usually involves men and women paying £10–£20 to attend events often
held in popular bars. After a short discussion by the host, men and women
are seated to have a three minute (on average) conversation. The conversa-
tions are used by the participants to establish if there are any relationship
opportunities. After three minutes, a bell rings and the men (usually) move
to the next table/date. During this time, the participants are asked to rate
their dates. At the end of the evening, men and women submit their score-
cards to establish if there are any matched ratings. The next day the host
posts the results online and if there are matches the participants can email
or phone to arrange further dates.
The data presented in this chapter are drawn from a number of inter-
views held with men in the north-east of England, which focused on their
perceptions of speed dating. Seven men were interviewed face-to-face, four
interviews were conducted online and four were held via the telephone. The
age range of the men was between 30 and 65 years old. The participants
were recruited through an advertisement on a social networking site, and an
advertisement on an online dating site. They were invited to respond if they
had tried speed dating and were willing to discuss their experiences. It is
acknowledged that there are major differences in the dynamics of data col-
lection between online and offline interviews. There were also differences in
levels of recruitment when using male or female contact names (see section
below). As a result, the interviews were conducted by the female researcher
and they ranged in length from 30 to 90 minutes. The format of the inter-
views was semi-structured, and all interviews were recorded. The face-to-face
interviews took place in coffee shops. The subjects covered were the men’s
experiences of speed dating and their perceptions surrounding these events.
Recruiting men/‘hooking up’

Speed dating has a number of cultural resonances that indicate the failure of
men and women to find a partner through conventional means (Patterson
and Hodgson, 2006). While online dating gains more salience as a perceived
effortless partner finding strategy, speed dating can be seen as involving too
much effort. This dovetails with the notion that being single may also be
seen as socially failing (Byrne and Carr, 2005). When initially trying to
talk to men about their speed-dating experiences, there was little response
to an advertisement placed by one of the male researchers. Given that
masculinities are often premised on competence and control, an agreement
to an interview could have been seen as part of affirming a failed masculin-
ity. In previous work, we have identified how a male researcher had difficulty
recruiting men because his desire to talk to men was read as a desire for
men (Haywood and Mac an Ghaill, 1997). As Oliffe and Mróz (2005, p. 257)
acknowledge, ‘Men don’t volunteer – they are recruited.’ When the research
team decided to change the recruiter from a male to a female, there was a
rapid rise in responses. Not only did the change in gender of the recruiter
interest men who had experience of speed dating, but also men made con-
tact and sent photos of their genitals, issued invitations to meet, asked for
a relationship or simply requested sexual encounters. More significantly, it
became evident quite quickly that the research relationships that were being
developed using the dating site closely resembled the format of a romantic
relationship.
As we continued the research project, we found that men were using
the protocols of the dating scene and building them into the interview
context. As a consequence, the interview became a space of transference
where men’s interpretations of dating protocols became a tool to negoti-
ate the social interaction. When identifying how masculinity is embedded
in research relationships, it is important to take into account that research
relationships are a relatively new genre of social interaction. As Gubrium
and Holstein (2003) remind us, the interview is a relatively modern phe-
nomenon. They argue that although question and answer scenarios have
previously existed (police, family, courts, employment), the notion of giving
information to strangers is quite new. Although they argue that individuals
have developed ‘modern tempers’ (Gubrium and Holstein, 2003, p. 22), it
is important to recognize that it is not always self-evident what the roles of
interviewer and interviewee mean. We have found that when undertaking
research with men and women, the dating protocols enabled men to talk
about their thoughts, feelings and practices. In other words, displays of het-
erosexual masculinity facilitated the navigation by the participants of the
interview encounter.
In our speed-dating research, masculine identities and subjectivities that
were configured through the context of dating and romance became inserted
into the interview encounter. Thus men who took up more predatory hetero-
sexual masculinities that are premised on assumptions about active sexual
desires and sexual readiness (Holland, et al., 1994; Allen, 2007) tended to
work through the research encounter articulating this position. One pat-
tern that emerged was that online interviews were more likely to produce
conversations that were overtly predatory. For example, during an interview

the following exchange took place:
Zoe: Is there anything else that you would like to tell me? Anything you
think I’ve missed out?
Ryan1 : No hun so how about us meeting then or do u know anyone that
wud like to meet me tomorrw in twon2
Zoe: Well as I said I’m already in a relationship so I can’t meet you, but
I really do appreciate your help with my research.
Ryan: Thank u hun we kud meet just don’t say owt to yor partner.
However, there was also evidence of this within the face-to-face interviews:
Mike: Can I take you to dinner?

Zoe: Thank you ever so much for the invitation but I’m afraid I have to
go now.
Mike: Well you have to eat.
Zoe: Thank you but I’ve eaten already, I ate before the interview.
Mike: Well how about a drink instead? We could chat some more.
These discussions took place in spite of the researcher making it explicitly

clear that this was academic research and not a means of securing a rela-
tionship. The research process was read as a romantic encounter, which
corresponds with claims by Walby (2010, p. 654): ‘The researcher has an
agenda-setting power (Hoffman, 2007), yet the respondent can swerve the
encounter towards propositions and sexualization, which results from and
contributes to meaning in the making.’ In the speed-dating research, the
interviews with men who were performing a more predatory heterosexual
masculinity were littered with innuendo and signals of sexual competence.
In contrast, men who positioned themselves as pursuing genuine, life-
long partners would work through the interview encounter using notions
of authenticity and truthfulness. The emphasis on these more confluent
masculinities where respect, care and sensitivity to women’s needs became
more central also appeared to shape the nature of the relationship with the
interviewer (Giddens, 1992). For example,
Zoe: So what do you mean by ‘dodgy people’?

Asseem: Some people on D8te.Com are very dangerous . . . so anyway I just
wanted to mention it to you, I’m sure you don’t need the advice, I’m
sure you don’t need this advice because you would not give out your
number to me, at the worst scenario you don’t turn up and I would be
here but please continue to be careful of this site.
Zoe: Yes.
Asseem: Ok?
Zoe: Yes.
As a result, the research encounter becomes worked through, although not

determined, by men’s negotiation and articulation of a masculine subjectiv-
ity within the dating scene. Importantly, the context of the research process
is highly significant. Pini (2005, p. 213) suggests that the methodological
analysis should move beyond ‘ . . . a simple focus on the gender of the inter-
viewer and the interviewee, to a more sophisticated critique of “who, whom,
what and where” ’. Therefore, the context of ‘dating research’ appeared to be
configuring the relationships between the interviewer and the participants.
Becoming the ‘girlfriend’

When developing the research approach we adopted principles that were
closely aligned to ‘validation hermeneutics’ (Haverkamp and Young, 2007,
p. 276). It is a perspective that attempts to uncover and establish the mean-
ings of the subjects being studied. In this way, norms and values exist as
relatively independent to the researcher, and in order to gain access to ‘what
is going on’, the research has to capture the meanings of the social actors.
One of the characteristics of this methodological position is the need to get
close to meanings of the participants because valid results are measured by
the correspondence between the researcher’s accounts and the accounts of
the participants. However, the practice of ‘getting close’ generates a num-
ber of gendered tensions. As Walby (2010, p. 650) maintains, ‘Qualitative
research purports to “get closer” to its objects of analysis, but how close
should researchers get?’ The process of ‘getting close’ in this research context
had particular implications for how the disclosure of private information
could be interpreted within the ‘dating frame’. For example, one partici-
pant explained that at a speed-dating event he had asked a woman what
her favourite position was and she had answered doggy style. Then he said,
‘Imagine if I’d’ve sat down and said “Zoe what position do you like?” Would
you have answered it?’ There was a big pause, as he was waiting for the
researcher to answer. At the same time, the researcher was waiting as if it
was a hypothetical question (which was how it was posed). One of the issues
to emerge in this research is not about being able to get close to the partici-
pants, but how to manage them trying to get too close. As a result, we noticed
that the interview transcripts contained a number of strategies used by the
interviewer, such as declines, dismissals and feigned confusion in order to
maintain the professionalism of the interview situation.
At the same time, there were also more subtle processes taking place in
how men were transferring the dating process onto the interview scenario.
As Walby (2010, p. 645) suggests, ‘During the interview, both the researcher
and the respondent fashion a sense of self through talk and gestures, and this
sense of self may be a sexual and gendered self’. A feature of this can also be
seen in how the participants often used the interviewer metonymically. The
concept is used here to identify how participants tried to get close to the
researcher. One strategy of getting close to the researcher involved replacing
‘girlfriends’ with the researcher through the enactment of a metonymic
relationship. As Kaomea (2003, p. 20) points out, ‘In metonymy, the literal
term for one thing is applied to another with which it is closely associated
because of contiguity in common experience’. Importantly, it is this contigu-
ity, the securing of desire between the interviewer and the participant, that
can be seen coming into play as part of an interview situation.
Tom: Let’s say it was you and me, let’s say we’ve been chatting, and this
was our first date, you’re a good looking lass ok? And if we were in that
situation I’d say ‘oh yeah I would like to see you again’ ok? Well you’re
looking at me and you’re gonna go ‘you’re winding me up’, most fellas
look alike, he’s quite humorous I’ll give him a second chance but if you
don’t want to do that then it’s going nowhere, there’s nothing I can do
if you don’t like me, it’s not going any further. Ermm let’s say that . . . let’s
turn it around and say that if you were absolutely fantastic and I wasn’t
really that interested in you, you would say ‘well I really like you I live up
the road, would you like to come back with me?’ I would say yes, as far as
I’m concerned the woman is in control.
The discussion of the scenario becomes a means to display a particu-

lar masculine subjectivity and his interpretation of how relationships are
formed. However, the attempt at discursive closeness is not straightforward.
As Musson and Tietze (2004) have noted, in their analysis of metonymic
chains in organizational research, the metonymic process involves a process
of deletion. In other words, in order to function effectively, metonyms rely
on the deletion of what they stand for. However, in this context, the dele-
tion is not clear cut. Rather than a deletion, the participant displaces the
interviewer. The final expression by Tom that the ‘woman is in control’ is
in tension with the ways that the participant uses the interviewer. As such,
the interviewer as metonym symbolically displaces both women, but the
interviewer becomes subjectivated as partner. In turn, the interviewer herself
becomes deleted, and thus occupies an intersubjective space with a potential
partner. As a consequence, the use of the metonym demonstrates the diffi-
culties of managing closeness. In this example, we recognize that the use
of the metonym enables the participant to ‘date’ the interviewer, without
necessarily bypassing research conventions.
Objectifying the body

The final theme that emerges from the interviews is the participants’ use of
the interviewer’s body. As Schwalbe and Wolkomir (2001, p. 94) argue, ‘Inap-
propriate sexualizing is a way that some heterosexual men try to reassert
control when being interviewed by women. This can take the forms of flirt-
ing, sexual innuendo, touching, and remarks on appearance.’ Within the
context of patriarchal models of masculinity, it could be argued that inter-
views reproduce gendered inequalities. Other researchers have identified
how participant disclosure depended on the attractiveness of the woman

interviewer. For example, Gailey and Prohaska (2011, p. 373) citing ear-
lier work, quoted the hostile response of one of their male interviewees
who stated ‘you should know that you’re lucky that you’re both in good
shape or men wouldn’t be talking with you about these things’. In the
research on speed dating, the interviewer experienced a wide range of discus-
sion that could have been viewed as objectification and harassment. There
were moments during the research where the interviewer felt uncomfort-
able. On one occasion a participant claimed that he misunderstood the
meaning of speed dating and thought that it was an online dating for-
mat. The researcher perceived that the interview was simply a ruse to meet.
Another participant, during the interview, asked the interviewer to switch
the Dictaphone off. He continually insisted on buying the interviewer a
drink (even though the interviewer repeatedly refused). He then proceeded
to produce a five-year-old newspaper article and asked her to explain why
the journalist had written it and what did it mean. The article was about
the hanging of an effigy from a lamppost following a football game. He said
he had written repeatedly to the journalist asking to meet him so he could
understand why he had written it. He also insisted that the interviewer agree
to go to the salsa classes that he attended. He subsequently wrote to the
researcher on a number of occasions via the website asking her to attend
the salsa classes. In both scenarios, there was evidence of a performance of
masculinity that was premised on the assumption of a particular kind of
femininity as passive, vulnerable and subject to control.
At the same time, there were instances within the interviews where pro-
cesses of objectification required a more critical reflection. The researcher
was fully aware of how the presentation of the self may cultivate a particular
view from the participants and consciously dressed in a smart but informal
style similar to the approach of Gailey and Prohaska (2011, p. 370) who ‘rec-
ognized the importance of wearing very little make-up because we did not
want to appear provocative or as if we were “fixing ourselves up” for the
interviewees’. Despite the de-sexualized dress code of the interviewer, one
participant in particular made reference to the interviewer’s chest to convey
the nature of his (heterosexual) desire and attraction:
Zoe: So what kind of person, type of person were you trying to meet? Did
you have an idea?
Dan: The type of person I would try to meet is already with another guy
and I’m sitting looking at her.
Zoe: Well thank you very much.
Dan: I’m teasing! Somebody very similar to yourself in the looks and the
other . . . them bits [INDICATES TO MY CHEST] We’ll not talk about that
but that would be the type of thing I’d go for, I wouldn’t go for a
bigger lady.
Later in the interview, the participant was speaking about the importance of
‘being yourself’ when meeting someone for a date:
Dan: . . . why not just concentrate on being who you are first and not
being who you need to be or this whole thing or the extra push-
em-up, it’s something I don’t . . . I don’t know about them [INDICATES
TO MY CHEST] I’m presuming they naturelle – I just don’t like all that,
it doesn’t do a thing for me, not a thing some blokes are like WOARRRR,
but they may as well buy me them, I’ll go for four grand and then look
at mine, I don’t get it, it’s false, it’s not real, it’s not right and in a certain
way, I hate to say it but that speed dating thing is kind of the same, it’s
false, I wouldn’t say it’s not right but it’s not real.
Within this text, evidence can be found of how the participant is involved
in a process of self-referencing his masculine identity. This self-referencing is
an attempt to appeal to a ‘truth’ of desire that is not situated within a mascu-
line identity and does not consolidate itself through a heterosexuality that
appears as predatory in nature. At one moment, there is the objectification –
for example, the ‘au naturelle’ (referring to the lack of body modification) –
whilst at the same time, there is a disdain for men whose desire is bodily
focused. As Duncan and Dowsett (2010, p. 48) suggest, ‘Contemporary rela-
tionships, then, appear to offer heterosexual men opportunities to express
more “authentic” selves, i.e. a masculine self coherent with notions of equal-
ity and individualism implicit in late modern selfhood’ (Terry and Braun,
2009). Dan’s objectification of the body is done in a way to differentiate him-
self from men who objectify women, albeit through objectifying practices of
his own. Therefore, we would argue that how men use objectifying practices
needs further investigation. Rather than being the endpoint in analysis, we
should begin to identify how the participant is using the interviewer’s body
to convey a narrative about their particular masculine subjectivity.
Furthermore, there is an attempt by the participant to describe the
complexity of desire being outside predation and embarrassment. Such self-
consciousness does not necessarily reduce the effects of male power, but it
does reveal how such objectification works within the formation of mascu-
line subjectivities. This was further illustrated when Dan discusses a girl with
whom he was meeting and how he sees her:
Zoe: So how do you understand that relationship?

Dan: . . . probably as friends with eye-candy, similar to yourself [INDI-
CATES TO MY CHEST] and that is, let me tell you, eye-candy . . . I’m just
being honest, it’s not a chat-up line, I don’t want to make you blush but
you know you’re the bomb, so she’s like, not as good looking as you but
a very similar body.
In many ways men’s shift towards the demonstration of reflexive masculine

subjectivities requires the development of an emotional literacy that either
uses new ways of expression, or as in the case above, has to draw upon exist-
ing narratives in order to develop alternative ways of being masculine. One
of the risks of this, as Allen (2007) has indicated, is that the sensitive and
emotionally open subjective identifications may be embedded within that
of hegemonic masculinity. She seeks to identify the extent of how romantic
masculinities may be seen as non-hegemonic. More specifically, she found
that young men may take up sensitive and caring masculinities but they
articulate this within existing discourses of gendered sexualities that posit
males as active and females as passive. Thus, masculinities that are seen
as caring and understanding are a reconstituted form of hegemonic mas-
culinity. In contrast, Monaghan and Robertson (2012) have usefully mapped
out how de-traditionalization and individualization may be changing how
men are making themselves. For example, as society undergoes social and
cultural change and the traditional sources of identity formation become
problematized, ‘people must increasingly negotiate their intimate lives out-
side of traditional certainties and without an overarching external authority
for guidance’ (Monaghan and Robertson, 2012, p. 139). Such negotiation
requires the formation and constitution of new forms of meaning. In the
context of the research relationship, exploring intersubjective moments
between the interviewer and the participants can provide an insight into
the nature of masculine self-production, the data being collected and the
knowledge and understanding being generated.
Conclusion
The analysis of the data generated from the research is in its early stages and
the points raised in this chapter represent a number of tentative themes that
require further exploration. More specifically, we have found that the per-
formances and self-productions of masculine subjectivities are embedded in
the interview encounter. We have also noted the dynamics of the interview
in terms of ‘getting close’, the use of metonymy and processes of objectifica-
tion. In light of these observations, we see methodological discussions as a
space where competing models of masculinity come into play. On one hand,
men’s identities are located within patriarchal privilege. On the other, we
need to consider the possibility that men’s identities could be constituted in
ways that may not be underpinned by such privilege. The fieldwork from this
project requires further analytical engagement to explore how men attempt
to negotiate non-oppressive masculinities, albeit through discriminatory talk
and practice. As stated earlier, we argue that the social and cultural recon-
figuration of normalized masculinity involves a number of (dis)locations in
how masculinity is lived out. We have found that critically reflecting on
methodological processes of working with men and masculinities provides
ways to begin to explore such possible (dis)locations.
Notes
1. All participant and organization names are pseudonyms.
2. Participant spelling and pronunciation have not been changed.
References
Allen, L. (2007) ‘ “Sensitive and Real Macho All at the Same Time”: Young Heterosexual
Men and Romance’, Men and Masculinities, 10, 137–152.
Blackmore, J. (1997) ‘Institutional Schizophrenia: Self-Governance, Performativity and
the Self-Managing School’, paper presented to the Annual Conference, Australian
Association of Research in Education, Brisbane, 1–4 December.
Bordo, S. (1994) ‘Reading the Male Body’ in L. Goldstein (ed.) The Male Body: Features,
Destinies, Exposures (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press).
Byrne, A. and D. Carr (2005) ‘Caught in the Cultural Lag: The Stigma of Singlehood’,
Psychological Inquiry, 16, 84–91.
Duncan, D. and G.W. Dowsett (2010) ‘ “There’s no Teleology to It; It’s Just about the
Spirit of Play”: Men, Intimacy, and “Late” Modernity’, The Journal of Men’s Studies,
18, 45–62.
Edwards, R. and R. Usher (1997) ‘Final Frontiers? Globalisation, Pedagogy and
(Dis)location’, Curriculum Studies, 5, 253–268.
Gailey, J.A. and A. Prohaska (2011) ‘Power and Gender Negotiations During Interviews
With Men About Sex and Sexually Degrading Practices’, Qualitative Research, 11,
365–380.
Giddens, A. (1992) The Transformation of Intimacy: Love, Sexuality and Eroticism in
Modern Societies (Cambridge: Polity Press).
Gubrium, J. and J. Holstein (2003) ‘From the Individual Interview to the Interview
Society’ in J. Gubrium and J. Holstein (eds) Post-modern Interviewing (Thousand Oaks,
CA: Sage).
Haverkamp, B.E. and R.A. Young (2007) ‘Paradigms, Purpose, and the Role of the
Literature: Formulating a Rationale for Qualitative Investigations’, The Counselling
Psychologist, 35, 265–294.
Haywood, C. and M. Mac an Ghaill (1997) ‘ “A Man in the Making”: Sexual
Masculinities within Changing Training Cultures’, The Sociological Review, 45,
576–590.
Hebert, L.A. (2007) ‘Taking “Difference” Seriously: Feminisms and the “Man Ques-
tion” ’, Journal of Gender Studies, 16, 31–45.
Herod, A. (1993) ‘Gender Issues in the Use of Interviewing as a Research Method’, The
Professional Geographer, 45, 305–317.
Hesse-Biber, S.J.N. (2011) Handbook of Feminist Research: Theory and Praxis (California:
Sage).
Hoffman, E. (2007) ‘Open-Ended Interviews, Power, and Emotional Labour’, Journal of
Holland, J., C. Ramazanoglu, S. Sharpe and R. Thomson (1994) ‘Achieving Masculine
Sexuality: Young Men’s Strategies for Managing Vulnerability’ in L. Doyal, J. Naidoo
and T. Wilton (eds) AIDS: Setting a feminist agenda (London: Taylor and Francis).
Jaggar, A.M. (2008) Just Methods: An Interdisciplinary Feminist Reader (Boulder, CO:
Paradigm Publishers).
Kaomea, J. (2003) ‘Reading Erasures and Making the Familiar Strange: Defamiliarizing
Methods for Research in Formerly Colonized and Historically Oppressed Commu-
nities’, Educational Researcher, 32, 14–23.
Khan, J.S. (2009) An Introduction to Masculinities (West Sussex: Wiley-Blackwell).
Moller, M. (2007) ‘Exploiting Patterns: A Critique of Hegemonic Masculinity’, Journal
of Gender Studies, 16, 263–276.
Monaghan, L.F. and S. Robertson (2012) ‘Embodied Heterosexual Masculinities, Part
1: Confluent Intimacies, Emotions and Health’, Sociology Compass, 6, 134–150.
Musson, G. and S. Tietze (2004) ‘Places and Spaces: The Role of Metonymy in
Organizational Talk’, Journal of Management Studies, 41, 1301–1323.
Noble, J.B. (2006) Sons of the Movement: FtMs Risking Incoherence on a Post-Queer Cultural
Landscape (Ontario: Women’s Press).
Oliffe, J. and L. Mróz (2005) ‘Men Interviewing Men about Health and Illness: Ten
Lessons Learned’, The Journal of Men’s Health and Gender, 2, 257–260.
Parlow, S.B. (2011) ‘Masculinity as a Center, Centered Masculinity’, Studies in Gender
and Sexuality, 12, 213–220.
Patterson, A. and J. Hodgson (2006) ‘A Speed-Dating Story: The Lovers’ Guide to
Marketing Excellence’, Journal of Marketing Management, 22, 455–471.
Robb, M. (2004) ‘Exploring Fatherhood: Masculinity and Intersubjectivity in the
Research Process’, Journal of Social Work Practice: Psychotherapeutic Approaches in
Health, Welfare and the Community, 18, 395–406.
Schwalbe, M. and M. Wolkomir (2001) ‘The Masculine Self as a Problem and Resource
Schwalbe, M. and M. Wolkomir (2003) ‘Interviewing Men’ in J.A. Holstein and J.F.
Gubrium (eds) Inside Interviewing: New Lenses, New Concerns (London: Sage).
Terry, G. and V. Braun (2009) ‘ “When I was a Bastard”: Constructions of Maturity in
Men’s Accounts of Masculinity’, Journal of Gender Studies, 18, 165–178.
Walby, K. (2010) ‘Interviews as Encounters: Issues of Sexuality and Reflexivity When
Men Interview Men about Commercial Same Sex Relations’, Qualitative Research, 10,
639–657.
7
Gendered Selves, Gendered Subjects:
Interview Performances and
Situational Contexts in Critical
Interview Studies of Men and
Masculinities
Linn Egeberg Holmgren
Introduction
The overall aim of this chapter is to discuss and deepen methodological and
ethical aspects of gendered interaction in cross-gendered interviews in the
field of masculinity studies. Its point of departure is a study of profeminist
men in Sweden, where the power relations turned out to be of subtle charac-
ter and all but one-way authoritarian (Egeberg Holmgren, 2011b).The aim of
the study was to understand how young adult men1 come to call themselves
feminists2 ; what it meant for them (somehow being ‘the second sex’ of the
feminist movement); how feminism affected their relations at work and at
home; and how feminism was ‘done’ in their everyday lives in a Swedish
society that embraces gender-equality politics.
The study produced some accounts of profeminist practices in everyday
life (Egeberg Holmgren, 2012), but to a large extent the politics of interview-
ing and being interviewed turned out to offer the most interesting aspects
on the subject of men engaged in feminism (Egeberg Holmgren, 2007, 2008,
2011a; Egeberg Holmgren and Hearn, 2009). In this chapter, I argue that the
interview in itself can work as the primary analytical setting and that doing
gender theory can be meritoriously used to explore empirical material from
fieldwork. Before illustrating this in some empirical scenes, I will further dis-
cuss the theoretical premises that this perspective on method, methodology
and analysis rests on.
One important theoretical and analytical focal point in the study was how
defining oneself as a man and a feminist, or man/feminist, was made com-
prehensible. Comprehensibility, in this case, rests on the assumption that
90
Linn Egeberg Holmgren 91
men more seldom put interest in feminism and equal opportunities. That is,
they are part of the problem to be solved. This was an assumption shared by
almost all interviewees and a critical subject in feminist literature (Jardine
and Smith, 1989; Digby, 1998; Schacht and Ewing, 1998; Pease, 2000; Ashe,
2004). The co-construction and presentation of a profeminist self meant
handling these potential contradictions.
What are the central issues and outcomes in empirical studies of men and
masculinities focusing on the construction of researcher self and research
subject in fieldwork interaction? The accounts of violence, harassment and
sexism in fieldwork represent the most profound expressions of patriarchy.
This does not mean that patriarchal structures are absent in fieldwork of a
more equal character and where interviews could even be considered a pleas-
ant experience. The empirical accounts of doing masculinity in interviews
that will follow are not to be interpreted as an assessment of the intervie-
wees’ authenticity. Rather, being a good feminist or not being a feminist at
all turned out to be of more interest to interviewees themselves.
Performing interviews, doing gender
Several aspects of post-structural approaches are already to be found in

sociological research traditions, such as the destabilization of identities;
criticizing notions of essence and truth-claims; the constituting effects of
language; and, not the least, in questioning the binary social categories.
These ideas have all been developed within symbolic interactionism and
ethnomethodology (Lundgren, 2000, p. 56; Smith, 2002, p. ix; Brickell, 2006,
pp. 88–89; Green, 2007).3
Approaching interviews in terms of interaction, performance and doing
gender brings us to the works of Goffman (1959) and West and Zimmerman
(1987), which have theoretical connections to post-structural perspectives
on masculinities and femininities. Brickell (2005) even calls this turning
back to classics a ‘theoretical reappraisal’. In Goffman’s The Presentation of
Self in Everyday Life, the theatre is used as a metaphor for theorizing contexts
at a micro level of society where the identity and self-image of the individ-
ual (defined as either self or subject) is performed and maintained on stage
in interaction with other selves. A performance involves actors and an audi-
ence. A performance also involves attempts to control what image of self is
mediated to other actors in the situated interaction, to make them see you
in whatever light you wish to be seen (Goffman, 1990 [1959]). The making
of a convincing performance is by no means a matter of disguising a true or
essential self.
Being theoretically related, the performance of selves resembles the
performativity of subjects, although with one important difference of rele-
vance for issues of methodology – that of the existence of ‘a doer behind the
deed’ (Brickell, 2005, p. 25; see Nietzsche, 2003 [1887]). With the presence
92 Gendered Selves, Gendered Subjects
of an actor, performance rather than performativity is the main target for

analysis. In researching men and masculinities through fieldwork and inter-
views, it can be fruitful to ‘put Goffman on a post-structural stage’ (Egeberg
Holmgren, 2011b, p. 67). This means giving space not only to constitut-
ing discursive processes, but also to an agency and an actor ‘doing gender’
(Brickell, 2005, p. 27). This kind of subject as well, often referred to as Self,
does not exist outside or before social processes and practices, but in the
interactional contexts where selves come into existence.
A study of men and masculinities in such a theoretical framework demon-
strates that gender can be located in the interview context as a matter of
doing. In doing gender theory, as framed by West and Zimmerman (1987),
the construction of masculinities and femininities is a matter of routine,
of methodical and reappearing accomplishments in ongoing social interac-
tion. This is an ethnomethodological approach that relates to the works of
Goffman.
In this chapter, I demonstrate that gendered practices and interview per-
formances as a primary analytical setting can be deconstructed as situated
contexts from an interactional perspective. As a theoretical approach, it
enables what Adèle Clarke (2005) calls situational analysis in the immediacy
of the interview context, not just in narratives of experiences, events and
practices from ‘the outside’. Issues of ongoing contradictions that arise with
the profeminist position as well as the doing of gender and feminism were
produced in interview interaction and in making the profeminist subject
comprehensible.
If masculinity is to be considered a matter of doing gender, in this ana-
lytical setting, the researcher ought to look for practices of privilege, of
doing dominance in the conversation and of deciding what perspectives and
interpretations are the ‘right’ ones. Feminism and profeminism then can be
identified as practices resisting these doings – a way of undoing masculinity.
Rather than being left as notes in methods sections, by making use of
doing gender theory, contradictory and simultaneous gendered processes to
be found in interviews can then tell us something about the complexities
around the subject of men and masculinities. I will now continue with
describing a few scenes where such complexities emerged.
Empirical scenes: The researcher self and other(ed)

gendered subjects
The qualitative research interview can be defined as a situation where inter-

viewer and interviewee are active subjects contributing to complex meaning-
making processes (Holstein and Gubrium, 2004). This means that all
participants (researcher included) interpret their experiences, stories and per-
formances together and participate in the knowledge production, although
with different premises to affect the final results (Koro-Ljungberg, 2008).
Michelle Fine (1994) and Fine and Sirin (2007) have developed a theoret-
ical, conceptual and methodological framework for ‘working the hyphen’
as a means of consciously elaborating relations between researcher and
researched. This framework focuses on the formation and reformation of
interviewees’ ideas about self and others in relation to social and political
contexts, as their bodies are ‘infused with global and local conflict, as they
strive to make meaning, speak back, incorporate and resist the contradictory
messages that swirl through them’ (Fine and Sirin, 2007, pp. 16–17).
Fine and Sirin (2007, p. 22) define the hyphen as a social-psychological
space in which the dynamics of political arrangements and individual
subjectivities come together. This hyphen can be negotiated in different
contexts and, in my work as well as theirs, it is evident that the posi-
tion(s) of research participants informs one another. This hyphen, being
constructed between self and other, can be somewhat mind-bending when
interviewing men in a feminist context, since men occupy a privileged gen-
der position in wider society but in a feminist space are subjected to a type
of othering.
Highlighting the hyphen between self and other, between researcher
and researched, has methodological implications for studies of men and
masculinities. This is where the issue of situated interactive contexts comes
into play. To analyse both what is said (i.e., transcripts) and perhaps what
is more an issue of both what is not said and what is mediated in interac-
tion beyond words, Fine and Sirin (2007) make use of Ruthellen Josselson’s
(2004) hermeneutics of faith and hermeneutics of suspicion. This is a double-
edged approach that enables taking interviewees’ narratives at face value,
re-presenting what is said in their own words (i.e., faith), and taking inter-
pretative authority by theorizing through the words of interviewees (i.e.,
suspicion). Analysing cross-gender interviews by making simultaneous use
of faith and suspicion means revealing the complexities and contradictions
of doing and undoing masculinity in interviews.
Co-fielding practices at the hyphen
For Fine, working the hyphen is to engage in moments of fieldwork when

self and other are joined, intertwined or entangled. To explore what hap-
pens at the hyphen is a way to avoid the othering of those who participate
in our projects (Fine, 1994, p. 72). As a matter of power, there are several
aspects at the hyphen making the gender relations of my study complex
and negotiable.
Among a number of other insights, one recurring scene demonstrates how
feminist knowledge is acted upon in ways that affect the gendered interview
performances at the hyphen rather unexpectedly and which may inform
our understanding of qualitative cross-gender interviewing and empirical
gender analysis. The knowledge production that was shaped during the
interviews turned out to be complicated, even obscured, in theoretically

challenging ways given that respondents were well-informed on the subject
matter which in turn also defines the very interview (Egeberg Holmgren,
2011a). The interviewees were often undergraduate students, well educated
in feminist issues and thereby in feminist theory as well; one might call it a
discursive closeness between interviewer and interviewee.
Knowledge is indeed a power resource when it comes to being inter-
viewed by a researcher. I have earlier written about experiences made from
performing qualitative interviews and conceptualized such theory-informed
reflexive co-constructing practices of interview interaction as ‘co-fielding’
(Egeberg Holmgren, 2011a). The concept was developed in order to address
methodological challenges derived from the reflexive use of knowledge
(in this case in feminist theory) and our overlapping positionings that
were made part of interviewees’ presentation of self in interaction with the
interviewer.
For instance, several interviewees made use of their knowledge in femi-
nist theory to tell me something about themselves, sometimes by taking an
outside position and analysing their own experiences and narratives in a
gender theory framework. This tendency left me as a researcher with a feel-
ing of getting ‘lost in transcription’ by repeating rather than analysing in the
first drafts from the material.
However, by analysing interviews as performance acts there was more of
an analysis to be done regarding the context than the text. This also exem-
plifies a move towards a ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’ (Josselson, 2004). Using
theoretical knowledge to tell the researcher something about yourself offers
several layers of interpretation. One of these is that the namedropping of
books and scholars, and the preference for theoretical perspectives and con-
cepts over personal narratives can be understood as a way of doing sameness.
There is an element of constructing the researcher and her expectations to
this, notions of what she would be interested to hear. In another way, the
use of theoretical knowledge can be interpreted as a way of doing masculin-
ity. In the past, men have been scrutinized and criticized by feminists for
assuming theoretical authority and employing theory when (not) dealing
with concrete feelings and behaviour – theory being considered high status
(Newton and Stacey, 1995, 1997).
I had trouble getting more detailed narratives of personal experiences out
of my interviewees without these being infused with theoretical reflections.
As a feminist woman researcher, I was at the same time both delighted
and frustrated over these theoretical excursions, unable to decide how to
approach them as texts and discourses by deploying ‘the hermeneutics of
faith’. By adding in context, interaction and ‘suspicion’, it became more
evident that the hyphen offered several layers of analysis.
Theoretical knowledge plays a reflexive and gendered part when
co-fielding occurs in gendered interview performances. But this concept
(along with an understanding of research subjects as being produced in per-

forming the interview) is not just suitable for exploring issues of gender in
fieldwork contaminated by discursive feminist closeness; it can be of use in
qualitative studies focusing on different intersections – for instance, gender
and age (Fernqvist, 2013), and gender and class (Sohl, 2009).
There are other empirical scenes highlighting why there is a need to
include contexts into the feminist analysis of texts, and further remarks to
be made on the politics and ethics of qualitative interviewing in general and
cross-gender interviewing in particular. I want to conclude by addressing
scenes that show the importance of including the ‘interactional information’
of fieldwork performances to analysis of cross-gender interviewing.
The politics and ethics of interpretative authority

and failing interviews
When women interview men the gendered relations run the risk of being
reinforced because of the structures of interactive speech in the research
interview. An interviewer is expected to be helpful, caring, understand-
ing, attentive and nice (Winchester, 1996, p. 123; Pini, 2005, p. 202).
In this setting, the researcher’s situated position is also a position of doing
femininity.
Consider this scene: an interviewee is telling the interviewer that one
of his foremost everyday profeminist practices consists of not interrupting
women and consciously choosing not to speak first as a way of, on the one
hand, listening to women, but perhaps even more so as a way of not defin-
ing the world. While telling me stories of this practice, the interviewee is
given and encouraged to take interpretative authority over the interviewer,
just as ‘it should be’. However, the interviewee is constantly interrupting the
interviewer when telling her this story and even more so punctuating her
presentation of self as ‘being a person who talks a lot and thereby risks defin-
ing the world for others’. Issues of talking (even more often of ‘shutting up’)
were among the most common profeminist practices of the interviewees in
this study and, in this case, the doings taking place in the interview context
are just as interesting and contradictory as to what the interviewee is talking
about. The retelling of a profeminist practice is not necessarily a repetition
of that practice. At the same time, an interviewee is expected to talk and to
take interpretative authority. The performance obviously poses something
of an analytical – and ethical – dilemma as where to go and what to do with
scenes of this kind, and the implications of doing and undoing masculin-
ity and profeminism, respectively, are in need of exploration and inquiry,
which is beyond the extent of this chapter.
In the study of profeminist men, the risk of reinforcing gendered struc-
tures of interaction was a looming feature of the interviewer performance.
Perhaps, this was most tangible when questions misfired and made the
interviewee somehow uncomfortable. This is not unusual in qualitative

studies: participants can be tired after a long day working, something might
have happened in your personal life that has nothing to do with the inter-
view and so forth. But interviewees turning uncomfortable might just as
well depend on what kind of questions are brought up, and not the least
how well the interview and the interviewer’s performance correspond to
expectations, causing a slight stage-fright for all involved. Sometimes such
feelings surface at the end of interviews. Several men in this study sighed
with relief afterwards saying things such as ‘It wasn’t that bad, was it?’ or
‘This actually felt good, I had more to say than I thought!’ The researcher
has a great responsibility here, obviously, but making interviewees feel at
ease sometimes was accomplished by me doing femininity, or I was ‘ren-
dered accountable’ (West and Zimmerman, 1987) if I did not succeed in this
performance, accountable as a researcher that is. This is one example of the
researcher being co-constructed as well in interview interaction.
In one interview, I perceived the interviewee getting frustrated, perhaps
angry with me. The questions were somehow wrong, too vague, too detailed,
too irrelevant, too whatnot. By the end of the interview, my questions were
answered with other questions: what do I mean? Did I reckon that a wrong
answer? How do I define masculinity? Do I have a thesis? How am I going to
do the analysis?
As researchers, we want to remember successful interviews: rich narratives,
rapport and disclosure. I had put the situation somewhere far inside my
memory but re-experiencing this interview as I listened to it again, I chose
to reconsider. This was not so much because of his frustration, as because of
my reactions. I laugh, more and more by myself, my voice turns soft (even
thin), and I ask the interviewee if he is OK. My questions and reflections
go from being rather sharp and straightforward into more solitary quests for
meaning. Later on, the interviewee explained to me that he had wished to
explore issues of masculinity and feminism by getting input from others.
I have interpreted failing interview scenes such as this one being related to
my performance as an interviewer not enabling the interviewee’s expected
profeminist performance. But why not simultaneously another way around:
that the interviewee’s reactions can be understood as a failing patriarchal
performance of a man in control, which in turn reinforced a gendered struc-
ture of our interview relation, the very structure our conversation sought to
represent an undoing of?
If anything, this scene tells us two important things. One of them can be
considered a result from the study: that reproduction and resistance can be
simultaneously performed in interactional settings. The other is a reminder
that the design of a study can affect the elaborations of knowledge made pos-
sible. To really dig into a situational analysis of our interactions, I would have
needed to come back for a second interview and explore what happened in
the first one together with the interviewee. Although lack of reflexivity was
not a common problem in this study, a design that enables reflexivity of that
kind would prevent us from othering each other (foremost the interviewee
in the interview and me in published work such as this text), it would give
us the chance of ‘working the hyphen’.
The politics and ethics of being (too) nice
An interactionist perspective means that both researcher and researched

have audiences. It is sufficient that these are constructed as probable to
impinge upon the interview act. One important audience for researchers
consists of colleagues, reviewers and editors; advisory spectators with whom
they need to answer inquiries, thoughts and criticism as a way of improv-
ing their work. Because of the subject of this study, dealing with men,
masculinities and profeminism, this audience was somewhat anxious that
I get the feminist analysis of gender and power right – but also anxious that
I would put interviewees to scorn in doing this.
In social research based on qualitative methods, representing men in fem-
inist analysis can be a sensitive issue. Neither women nor men in general,
(research) organizations or a patriarchal society as a whole are used to ‘nam-
ing men as men’ (Collinson and Hearn, 1994). For the most part, the doings
of men are not considered to be about gender at all (a God-trick indeed).
Analytically placing men in or around feminism puts an edge to the practice
of naming men as men. Being critical and highlighting the occurrence of
gendered power in a research setting is different from othering underprivi-
leged groups. As Hilary Winchester (1996) points out, ethical guidelines are
not always helpful, since both researcher and researched can play a domi-
nant and resourceful part. There is just as much politics as there is ethics to
the art of being (too) nice.
I often rejected critique from this academic audience when it was anx-
ious that I, by simply naming men as men in a patriarchal society, was
othering interviewees and in a scornful manner. But I also needed to con-
sider those anxious that I was ‘too nice’ both during interviews and in the
process of analysis. In seminars and discussions, both before, during and
after fieldwork, my performance was perceived as potentially too nice. ‘Nice’
included notions of being potentially uncritical, staying too loyal to the
participants, thinking too well of them or letting them ‘get away’ with alto-
gether positive accounts of themselves. Part of the audience was not at all
surprised, even guessed, that the interviewees of this particular study were
very self-reflexive and thereby left me with smooth representations difficult
to breach analytically. My research would not pass as critical enough if I was
too nice. All in all, feminist colleagues supported me in not being too nice
with my interviewees, concerned that they would otherwise try to put them-
selves in a good light, wanting me ‘to buy their story’. The reader should not
be misled into imagining a mob of feminist scholars putting judgements
over participants as individuals. Rather, taking power structures seriously is

at the core of social research and gender studies.
The discussion of othering research participants is often concerned with
unprivileged groups or categories, but since writing in fact always runs the
risk of othering interviewees at an individual level, concurrently manifest-
ing the researcher’s power position, there are always ethical considerations
involved in critical writings. Why is this interesting in terms of gendered
interaction and power relations? It is important to remember that intervie-
wees, regardless of the subject of study, are in a ‘tough spot’. Yet, this does
not mean interviewees are without resources. The collegial advice was to
not give the men interviewed the privilege of performing a presentation of
self as a ‘good feminist’ without closer critical inquiry during the interviews.
However, it transpired that me being too nice was somewhat problematic.
Social interaction – our mutual involvement in each other’s actions –
encompasses giving a good impression of yourself in all kinds of everyday
situations, which means that saving face and avoiding different distur-
bances or instabilities demand cooperation (Goffman, 1990 [1959], p. 26,
pp. 234–236). However, in the interviews of this study, performing such a
good impression often consisted of telling the researcher not to be fooled by
this impression management of a ‘good profeminist’, urging her to retell the
story in an ‘othering’ way; that is, portraying the hegemonic and complicit
masculinity of their doings. Losing face, rather than saving face, turned out
to be a central aspect of an authentic profeminist performance. Moreover,
I treated all interviewees in an equally critical manner. One could say that
there was extensive othering of others going on in and around the interviews
since participants worried that others were self-righteous or lacked con-
sciousness of their own problematic gendered position as feminists (Egeberg
Holmgren, 2007).
Some interviewees needed a competitor in order to present themselves as
politically sharp, which can be considered representative of doing masculin-
ity. Moreover, this puts demands on the researcher’s performance that might
not be compliant with ethical rules, or indeed the imagined purpose of the
interviews to begin with.
I hoped to get personal narratives from the interviewees, narratives of
gendered and feminist experiences they had made. One remarked that the
interview did not contain that many sensitive personal questions about sex-
uality and violence and another thought me too detailed in such issues. Yet
another interviewee feeling critical of my interview performance gave me
the advice to be ‘more aggressive’ next time around since that makes it eas-
ier for an interviewee to sharpen his argument. He had hoped for more of
a battling, tough discussion to succeed in his presentation of a profeminist
self. Some interviewees obviously wanted me to be less kind, more aggres-
sive, trickier and more demanding – fearing that I would put them in too
good a light writing about the interviews. Not ‘passing the test’, or being
given a chance to admit that they would not pass this test was actually key
to pass as an authentic profeminist (see also Egeberg Holmgren, 2007).
Being critical, advocated by my audience of researchers (and perhaps read-
ers too) as necessary to prevent non-problematized (re)presentations of a
profeminist self, is simultaneously what enables interviewees to present
themselves as authentic (critical of and criticized for positioning themselves
as ‘feminist’).
The politics and ethics of nice can be considered as a negotiation of power
between interviewer and interviewee, but from a feminist point of view it is
just as problematic with situations where women are told how to behave, to
do the right femininity, so as to enable the performances of men. Issues of
who is othering who are never clear-cut in empirical settings where women
interview men.
Conclusion
Interviews are often considered to enable some sort of reproduction or repli-

cation of contexts from another time and space, even though they are not
defined as a neutral gathering of knowledge about a reality existing out-
side the interview (Alvesson and Sköldberg, 2008). I have chosen to view
the situation of the interview as reproducing a micro sociological context.
What I mean by this is simply that we do not necessarily need to search
for the reproduction of a reality ‘outside’ when this is something that is
already a process taking place in the situated context. When the inter-
viewer/interviewees in the study of men and feminism were talking about
men, masculinities and feminisms, they were simultaneously doing gender
and feminism through the presentation and performance of selves (Egeberg
Holmgren, 2011b, p. 63). The analysis must then put attention to the inter-
action between interviewer and interviewee(s) during, as well as before and
after, the interviews and consider these aspects as part of the empirical
material in the study.
This chapter has demonstrated that the doing of masculinity and
femininity, alongside other power relations, is complex and intrinsically
embedded in the very act of interviewing as part of the positions and inter-
actional constructions of researcher self and research subject. As it turns out,
this way of approaching empirical material can show how difficult it can be
to undo what Connell calls ‘the patriarchal dividend’ (Connell, 1995, p. 79;
2000, p. 46), even when everybody present considers themselves aware of
(and indeed critical of) its existence.
Doing masculinity is a question of gendered positions and practices of
power at an interactional level. Masculinity is, however, not isolated from
institutional levels as well as other social positions and practices such as
class and race. One way of defining power at an individual and interactional
level is, for the sake of simplicity, in terms of resources (symbolic, material,
discursive), acting space and possibilities to define the situation (to have, be
given or take an interpretative privilege).
However, the issues of hegemonic or complicit masculinity and the power
of men are not as clear-cut as this short definition appears to showcase. This
short definition is more for the sake of simplicity pointing towards what the
researcher can look for in the empirical material drawn from situated interac-
tion. A complexity that emerged from the analysis of interview performances
was that the intentions and the consequences of the ‘undoing practices’ did
not always overlap. That is, gendered power could be simultaneously resisted
and reproduced.
Drawing on Goffman (1990 [1959]), one could say that the co-constructing
impression management in interviews involves negotiating the hyphen
where othering of selves takes place. Instead of othering interviewees by
‘simply’ retelling their stories, in ways Fine (1994) highlights as problem-
atic, situational analysis of interview performances in interactive settings
can tell us something about the hegemonic character of men’s practices.
The researcher is, together with participants, an unintentional and involun-
tary complicit actor, co-constructing the gendered structures of interviewing.
The scenes described in this chapter are hereby collective accomplishments
where gender is done, reproduced, negotiated and hopefully challenged to
be undone.
Notes
1. The men interviewed were 20–34 years of age at the time of the interviews. That
made them born in the 1970s and first half of the 1980s. This is the same period
of time when issues of gender equality were institutionalized in Sweden. It can be
considered a deliberate sampling when it comes to ‘generation’ resting on the pre-
sumption of interviewees being part of (or influenced by) the third-wave feminism
that spread and grew strong in Sweden during the 1990s.
2. In Sweden, there is often no or less apparent contradiction in men using the term
‘feminist’. The term ‘profeminist’ is sometimes even viewed as somewhat aca-
demic, too specific or even unnecessary. It was rare that the men in the study
found it important to refer to themselves as ‘pro’. In this chapter, I use the words
‘profeminist’ and ‘feminist’ interchangeably, although I acknowledge the preva-
lence of different ideological and theoretical perspectives within feminism as to
whether men could or should call themselves feminist.
3. For a review and brilliant discussion of similarities and differences between the
works of Erving Goffman and Judith Butler, see Brickell (2005).
References
Alvesson, M. and K. Sköldberg (2008) Tolkning och Reflektion: Vetenskapsfilosofi och
Kvalitativ Metod [Interpretation and Reflection: Philosophy of Science and Qualitative
Method] (Lund: Studentlitteratur).
Ashe, F. (2004) ‘Deconstructing the Experiential Bar: Male Experience and Feminist
Resistance’, Men and Masculinities, 7, 187–204.
Brickell, C. (2005) ‘Masculinities, Performativity, and Subversion: A Sociological

Reappraisal’, Men and Masculinities, 8, 24–43.
Brickell, C. (2006) ‘The Sociological Construction of Gender and Sexuality’, The
Sociological Review, 54, 87–113.
Clarke, A.E. (2005) Situational Analysis: Grounded Theory after the Postmodern Turn
(Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications).
Collinson, D. and J. Hearn (1994) ‘Naming Men as Men: Implications for Work,
Organization and Management’, Gender, Work and Organization, 1, 2–22.
Connell, R. (1995) Masculinities (Berkeley: University of California Press).
Connell, R. (2000) The Men and the Boys (Cambridge: Polity).
Digby, T. (ed.) (1998) Men Doing Feminism (New York: Routledge).
Egeberg Holmgren, L. (2007) ‘Killing Bill: Men as Rebellious Feminists in the Politics
of Passing’, Nordic Journal of Masculinity Studies, 2, 16–37.
Egeberg Holmgren, L. (2008) ‘Performing Feminist Affinity: Interviewing Feminist
Men in Sweden’ Atenea, XXVIII, 107–120.
Egeberg Holmgren, L. (2011a) ‘Cofielding in Qualitative Interviews: Gender, Knowl-
edge, and Interaction in a Study of (Pro)Feminist Men’ Qualitative Inquiry, 17,
364–378.
Egeberg Holmgren, L. (2011b) Ingenmansland: Om Män som Feminister,
Intervjuframträdanden och Passerandets Politik [No Man’s Land: Men as Feminists,
Interview Performances and the Politics of Passing] (Uppsala: Universitetsförlaget).
Egeberg Holmgren, L. (2012) ‘Feministiska Män: Från i-Princip till i-Praktik’ [‘Fem-
inist Men: From Principle to Practice’] in L. Gottzén and R. Jonsson (eds) Andra
Män: Maskuliniteter och Normskapande i det ‘Jämställda’ Sverige [Other Men: Masculinity,
Normativity and Gender Equality] (Malmö: Gleerups).
Egeberg Holmgren, L. and J. Hearn (2009) ‘Framing “Men in Feminism”: Theoret-
ical Locations, Local Contexts and Practical Passings in Men’s Gender-Conscious
Positionings on Gender Equality and Feminism’, Journal of Gender Studies, 18,
403–418.
Fernqvist, S. (2013) En Erfarenhet Rikare? En Kvalitativ Studie av Barns Strategier och
Barnfattigdomens Villkor i Välfärdsstaten [Rich in Experience? A Qualitative Study of
Children’s Strategies and the Conditions of Child Poverty in the Welfare State] (Uppsala:
Universitetsförlaget).
Fine, M. (1994) ‘Working the Hyphens: Reinventing Self and Other in Qualitative
Research’ in N.K. Denzin and Y.S. Lincoln (eds) Handbook of Qualitative Research
(Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage).
Fine, M. and S.R. Sirin (2007) ‘Theorizing Hyphenated Selves: Researching Youth
Development in and Across Contentious Political Contexts’, Social and Personality
Psychology Compass, 1, 16–38.
Goffman, E. (1990 [1959]) The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (London: Penguin).
Green, A.I. (2007) ‘Queer Theory and Sociology: Locating the Subject and the Self in
Sexuality Studies’, Sociological Theory, 25, 26–45.
Holstein, J.A. and J.F. Gubrium (2004) ‘The Active Interview’ in D. Silverman (ed.)
Qualitative Research: Theory, Method and Practice, 2nd edn (London: Sage).
Jardine, A. and P. Smith (eds) (1989) Men in Feminism (London: Routledge).
Josselson, R. (2004) ‘The Hermeneutics of Faith and the Hermeneutics of Suspicion’,
Narrative Inquiry, 14, 1–29.
Koro-Ljungberg, M. (2008) ‘A Social Constructionist Framing of the Research Inter-
view’ in J.A. Holstein and J.F. Gubrium (eds) Handbook of Constructionist Research
(New York and London: The Guildford Press).
Lundgren, E. (2000) ‘Ahead of Their Time, Children of Their Time, In and Out of Step
20 Years Later’, Feminism and Psychology, 10, 55–61.
Newton, J. and J. Stacey (1995) ‘Ms. Representations: Reflections on Studying Aca-
demic Men’ in R. Behar and D.A. Gordon (eds) Women Writing Culture (Berkeley,
CA: University of California Press).
Newton, J. and J. Stacey (1997) ‘The Men We Left Behind Us: Narratives Around
and About Feminism from White, Left-Wing, Academic Men’ in E. Long (ed.) From
Sociology to Cultural Studies: New Perspectives (Oxford: Blackwell).
Nietzsche, F. (2003 [1887]) The Genealogy of Morals (Mineola, NY: Dover).
Schacht, S.P. and D.W. Ewing (eds) (1998) Feminism and Men: Reconstructing Gender
Relations (New York: New York University Press).
Smith, D.E. (2002) ‘Foreword’ in S. Fenstermaker and C. West (eds) Doing Gender, Doing
Difference: Inequality, Power and Institutional Change (New York: Routledge).
Sohl, L. (2009) ‘The Only Way is Up? Narrative and Discursive Reflections on Women’s
Narratives of Class Mobility in Sweden’, Paper Presented at the 9th Conference of
the European Sociological Association, Lisbon, 2–5 September.
West, C. and D.H. Zimmerman (1987) ‘Doing Gender’, Gender and Society, 1, 125–151.
Winchester, H.P.M. (1996) ‘Ethical Issues in Interviewing as a Research Method in
Human Geography’, Australian Geographer, 27, 117–131.
8
Conversations about Otokorashisa
(Masculinity/‘Manliness’):
Insider/Outsider Dynamics in
Masculinities Research in Japan
Romit Dasgupta
Introduction
This chapter draws upon my fieldwork experience conducting research about

‘masculinities’ in Japan for my doctoral dissertation in the late 1990s.
As I outline below, I returned to an area of Japan where I had lived in
the past, had spent some of the most significant years of my life, and had
extensive personal as well as more formal networks and relationships. How-
ever, this time I returned in a new guise – almost a new incarnation – that
of ‘researcher’. This, as well as my often ambiguous ‘insider/outsider’ posi-
tion, provided challenges, as well as added richness, to the research project.
Adding to the complexity (and richness) of these insider/outsider dynam-
ics was the gendered and sexualized undercurrents informing the research
process. I was a male researcher, and, in addition to that, a male researcher
who was constructed by his informants as sharing a gendered world view
that, at least in terms of its public articulations, was essentially a heteronor-
mative one. How these intersecting and interacting cross-currents informed
the research process is something I would like to reflect on in this chapter.
The sociocultural context of this chapter is a non–Euro-North American-
Australian-New Zealand one. In this regard, the chapter provides a much
needed spotlight on the complexities of conducting masculinities research
in a ‘non-Western’ setting. At the same time, Japan is an affluent, urban-
ized, industrialized society, and hence, there may well be crossovers with
‘Western’ sociocultural contexts.
This chapter uses a framework of what insider/outsider anthropologists
such as Lila Abu-Lughod (1991), Dorinne Kondo (1990) and Kirin Narayan
(1993), among others, have termed ‘halfie’ research, to unpack some of
these intricacies and nuances. The experience of revisiting a familiar space
103
104 Conversations about Otokorashisa
in a new incarnation, and occupying the status of ‘insider/outsider’ as

I negotiated new relationships and re-negotiated old ones, forced me to con-
front issues, including notions of home, self and identity, as well as ethical
dilemmas in negotiating the private/public dichotomy, that I had either
dismissed or underestimated prior to commencing fieldwork. As flagged
above, an additional (often unrecognized) complicating dynamic was that
of masculinity. By reflecting on some of these issues, I hope to desta-
bilize certain binaries underpinning fieldwork methodology, such as out-
sider/insider, researcher/informant and ‘objective’ ethnography/‘subjective’
autobiography.
Situating the research
The issue of the researcher as an ‘insider/outsider’ is one that has received

considerable attention in the literature in recent years. Writers such
as Sonia Ryang (2005), Lila Abu-Lughod (1991), Kirin Narayan (1993),
Dorinne Kondo (1990) and others have drawn attention to some of
the problematics of working with watertight, discrete understandings of
‘researcher’/‘informant’, ‘native’/‘other’, ‘insider’/‘outsider’ and other binary
clusters, which for many years were considered markers of ‘good’, rigor-
ous, unbiased research. Other works such as those by Evelyn Blackwood
(1995) and Esther Newton (1993) have sought to explore the ways in which
undercurrents of desire (often un-articulated and/or sublimated) may be
just as significant in informing the research project, and may also work
towards interrogating and disrupting underlying binary assumptions about
research. Following on from the works of Narayan (1993), Kondo (1990) and
Abu-Lughod (1991), the term ‘halfie’ has been applied to research that is,
and to researchers who are, aware of some of these ‘in-between-nesses’ and
slippages of the research process. Lila Abu-Lughod (1991, p. 137) defines
‘halfies’ as ‘people whose national or cultural identity is mixed by virtue of
migration, overseas education or parentage.’
Significantly, Abu-Lughod (1991, p. 137) includes feminist researchers
within the rubric of ‘halfie’ – as she notes, both (feminists and ‘halfies’)
‘unsettle the boundary between self and the other.’ Other writers such as
Newton (1993) or Blackwood (1995), even when not explicitly deploying
this term, engage with the implications of having to constantly negoti-
ate the shifting sands of the insider/outsider border zones, whether they
be cultural, racialized, classed, gendered, sexualized or emotional border
zones. Thus, Esther Newton’s (1993) study, although never using the term
‘halfie’, beautifully captures the problematics of negotiating the dynamics
of insider/outsider in the context of same-sex sexuality and desire in her
study of her friendship with an elderly lesbian informant on Fire Island in
New York. In a different context, when Suruchi Thapar-Björkert (1999) dis-
cusses her work in India, as an Indian-born, Western-educated researcher,
Romit Dasgupta 105
with older women who had been active in the nationalist movement earlier
in the twentieth century, she does not explicitly use the term ‘halfie’ either
to talk about herself in relation to her informants, or her own position of
traversing insider/outsider lines. However, the following reflection on her
position vis-à-vis her informants seems to capture the essential elements of
Abu-Lughod’s term:
I . . . came to understand that the category ‘Other’ is not a fixed cate-

gory, but its meaning shifts according to context . . . As a non-western
researcher, I could identify ‘otherness’ at different levels . . . I could accept
that in the process of conducting my interviews I would be subjected to
the same social constraints as any other Indian woman. However, there
were times when I was faced with the problem of being positioned as
‘other’ by my respondents because I was a researcher based in Britain
and had what was perceived as the advantage to being able to return
(to Britain) . . . My nationality was subordinate to my social position.
(Thapar-Björkert, 1999, p. 65)
As highlighted in the introduction to this chapter, I will draw upon the

above framework of ‘halfie’ research to reflect on some of the ‘shades-of-
grey’ I had to negotiate during fieldwork for my doctoral research. The focus
of my PhD research was the discourse of masculinity embodied in the figure
of the white-collar, middle-class ‘salaryman’ (sarariiman, in Japanese) in
Japan. Over the post-Second World War decades the figure of the be-suited,
urban, white-collar office worker/business executive ‘salaryman’ came to
be associated with Japan’s transformation from a war-devastated society
to the world’s second largest economy within a period of three decades.
This was a figure who came to be regarded as something of an ‘everyman’
of Japan’s post-war social landscape, the ‘corporate soldier’ (kigyô senshi)
who exerted a powerful influence on imaginings of Japan, both within
the country, and outside of it. Indeed, the ubiquitous salaryman came to
signify both Japanese masculinity and Japanese corporate culture. In this
sense, the salaryman embodied ‘the archetypal citizen . . . [someone who] is a
male, heterosexual, able-bodied, fertile, white-collar worker’ (Mackie, 2002,
p. 203). In other words, in the sociocultural imaginary of post-war Japan, the
salaryman was the quintessential male shakaijin (literally ‘social being’, but
more generally, a ‘socially responsible’ adult). Expressed another way, the
discourse of salaryman masculinity, over much of the post-war period, could
be regarded as a socioculturally hegemonic one, exerting ideological power
and ascendancy ‘through culture, institutions, and persuasion’ (Connell and
Messerschmidt, 2005, p. 832).
However, in the context of significant sociocultural and economic shifts,
the discourse of masculinity embodied in the salaryman started to come
under increasing challenge from the 1980s and 1990s. In particular, the
collapse in the early 1990s of the ‘bubble economy boom’ of the 1980s,
and the ushering in of a subsequent period of economic slowdown, had
major ramifications for salaryman masculinity. The mid- to late-1990s were
particularly important years, as the shift from an earlier, more economi-
cally stable era to a more globalized and neoliberal context, was particularly
pronounced (see Dasgupta, 2009). Accordingly, my research explored the
ways in which young men entering the workforce – essentially young
‘salarymen’ – negotiated with the hegemonic ideals of masculinity they were
expected to engage with as shakaijin, at a point in history when many of
the assumptions underpinning white-collar salaryman masculinity in Japan
were being (and continue to be) challenged and interrogated.
Research contexts
The fieldwork was carried out over an 18-month period in 1998 and 1999,
in a large prefecture in northern Japan. The focus of the research revolved
around discussions and interviews with young male employees of two dif-
ferent organizations who were in the process of making the transition to the
status of adult employees. At the time I was interacting with them, the young
men had been in the workforce for periods ranging from a few months to a
few years. The two organizations were ‘Northern Energy’, a large-scale cor-
poration in the energy sector, employing several thousand staff in branches
throughout the prefecture, and ‘Northern Print’, a small-to-medium scale
firm (chûshô-kigyô) in the printing industry, based in a medium-sized regional
city, with around 200 employees.1
It was through academic and personal contacts from my previous stays in
that part of Japan, and a series of fortuitous circumstances, that the man-
agement of Northern Energy and Northern Print consented to becoming
involved in the research project. As a first step, in order to strengthen the
rapport with potential informants, I organized a social ‘icebreaker’ session.
This, as it turned out, proved to be immensely valuable. It gave the infor-
mants the opportunity, in a relaxed social setting, to ask me questions about
myself, and get to know me, not just as a researcher from overseas, but also
as someone whose life experiences overlapped and intersected with their
own lives, to an extent they had not anticipated. For instance, the fact that
I was familiar with the habits and customs of that particular part of Japan
(often far more than some of the informants who came from elsewhere in
Japan), or that I had also experienced working in a Japanese organization
in the past, helped lessen the sense of ‘otherness’ towards me. For instance,
I remember being told by one individual at this social gathering that when
he and his fellow informants had first been told that a foreign university
researcher was interested in interviewing them, they had imagined a tall,
bearded, Caucasian ‘professor-type’ who spoke broken Japanese, and would
have trouble communicating with them. Hence when they saw me, and
heard me speak, their initial anxiety was dissipated. Several factors may have
Romit Dasgupta 107
contributed to this. Physically, I was quite the antithesis of the tall, bearded,
‘professorial’ stereotype – close enough in terms of complexion, natural hair
colour and build, to be able to ‘blend in’ to a degree. Moreover, at the time of
the fieldwork, I was only a couple of years older than most of the informants,
and having worked as a young ‘salaryman’ myself in the past, could relate
to many of their concerns and interests. Furthermore, it was not just fluency
in language that was a factor, but also familiarity with the local specificities
of the language. For instance, I recall an incident at one of the other social
gatherings, when a friend called me on my cell phone, and I unintentionally
slipped into local colloquialisms and dialect. This was overheard by some of
the informants around me, and one of them remarked that this brought
home to him how similar and familiar I was to the rest of them, after all.
I will return to this issue in the next section, when I reflect in more detail
upon the more nuanced aspects of conducting research.
Following on from this ‘groundwork laying’, I was able to move towards
actual interviews. I first organized focus group discussions, which were valu-
able in allowing me an opportunity to observe interaction and exchange
between individuals. These were followed by interviews with individual infor-
mants conducted in two separate blocks over 18 months. Interviewing each
individual on two separate occasions contributed to the research in a num-
ber of ways. First, given the focus on the shift from pre-shakaijin masculinity
to adult salaryman masculinity as an ongoing process that has to be negoti-
ated, returning to the same individual a few months after our first meeting
allowed me to get a sense of this process at work. These shifts and changes
were sometimes quite dramatic. For instance, between our first and second
interviews, one of my ‘key’ informants, Shin’ya Naohiko, went from being
a single, carefree young man with no major ‘adult responsibilities’, living
in a single room in the company dormitory, to a husband and father of a
newborn baby girl, with all the cares and responsibilities that the shift in his
circumstances had brought. This included the realization that with a depen-
dent wife and baby, he could no longer pursue many of the dreams – such
as travelling or returning to study – he had outlined to me in our earlier
interactions. Second, it was not only the transformations in the informants
that were at stake; given the emphasis on my research as an interactive pro-
cess, it also allowed the informants to get a sense of the not insubstantial
shifts and changes that had occurred in me over the months since our previ-
ous meeting. Finally, conducting the interviews in two instalments allowed
both sides to return to themes and issues raised the first time that may have
required further reflection or clarification.2
Insider/outsider research: ‘shades-of-grey’
As hinted at in the preceding discussion, in addition to the ‘nuts-and-bolts’

logistical issues, the research dynamics and methodology were also shaped
by more subtle, nuanced considerations, which were sometimes difficult
to clearly define. As Linda McDowell (2001) observes while reflecting on

her own research with young men, practice manuals and codes of conduct
for social researchers may offer sensible, ‘black-and-white’ advice about the
‘do’s-and-don’ts’ of research, but the reality on the ground may be different.
It is, as McDowell (2001, pp. 93–94) points out, ‘often more difficult in prac-
tice to “strike the right note” and establish a successful rapport’. Conducting
interviews, she reminds us, ‘is a chancy business – sometimes it works and
sometimes it does not – and the outcome may not always be controllable
by the interviewer’ (McDowell, 2001, p. 94). Any kind of social (or for that
matter, scientific) research with humans involves at least some degree of
interaction between the researcher and the ‘subject’. The researcher is just
as important to the process as the informant/respondent/subject. Rather
than being a ‘neutral’, detached, interviewing/note-taking machine along
the lines presented in the more positivist research manuals, the researcher
comes into the situation as a fellow social individual with their own com-
plex personal baggage. In the relationship with individuals in the research
setting, the researcher has to constantly negotiate how to work these strands
of their own self into the context of relations in the ‘field’. In this sense, field
research, to quote William Shaffir (1991, p. 77), ‘requires some measure of
role-playing and acting . . . [where] the researcher learns to present a particu-
lar image of himself or herself’; moreover, this presentation of self ‘cannot
be determined in advance but instead reflects the contingencies encountered
in the field.’ In other words, the ‘presentation of self as well as the research
are not organized in a vacuum but are shaped by the people in the setting
with whom the researcher interacts’ (Shaffir, 1991, p. 78). This reflects the
fact that notions of the self, on both sides, are constantly ‘crafted’ through
these interactions (Plummer, 1996, p. 224). It is through these intersections
and interactions that the research takes shape.
In my case, too, I was not coming into the research setting as a newcomer,
who could start with a ‘blank slate’ (to the extent that this can ever be pos-
sible) as far as establishing relationships and rapport was concerned. Rather,
as signalled earlier, I was returning in my new ‘incarnation’ as researcher, to
a location I had lived in before and where I had extensive academic, social
and personal networks. The implication of this was a situation where I – not
unlike Dorinne Kondo (1986, 1990), Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney (1984), Sonya
Ryang (2005) and Takeyuki Tsuda (1998) in Japan, or Kirin Narayan (1993)
and Suruchi Thapar-Björkert (1999) in India, or Lila Abu-Lughod (1991) in
Egypt – found myself playing the role of the ‘halfie’ researcher, straddling
and traversing the insider/outsider border zones far more than I had antici-
pated. In other words, the distinction between a seamless, bounded ‘self’ as
outside researcher ‘looking in’ to the informant ‘other’ was more often than
not ambiguous and slippery. The ramifications of this sometimes worked
to my advantage but often also confused and complicated things, some-
times forcing me to modify the nature of my interactions with individuals
Romit Dasgupta 109
in ways I probably would not have needed to if the distinction between

researcher/self and researched/other had been clear-cut and watertight (see
also Chalmers, 2002, pp. 15–16).
Having pre-existing networks was immensely beneficial – as I noted
earlier – in opening doors and allowing me access in ways that would have
been far more difficult otherwise. Arguably, had it not been for my ability
to fall back on relationships from my earlier incarnations in that place, both
Northern Energy and Northern Print may well have refused to cooperate
in my research. Familiarity with the specific local situation and conditions,
rather than just familiarity with the Japan of the metropolitan heartlands
of Tokyo or Osaka, also worked to my advantage. The fact that I was just as
(indeed, sometimes more) familiar as my informants with local idioms and
cultural idiosyncrasies, as well as landmarks and places around the region,
that I could relate personally to participants’ experiences of local student life
or work culture, and sometimes even had friends or acquaintances in com-
mon, went a long way in ‘breaking the ice’ and establishing rapport with
interview informants.
At the same time, being located within webs of relationships, and being
connected to familiar (indeed, familial) points and networks of association,
also exerted a constraining influence on my ability to explore aspects of the
research. First, there was the reality that having pre-existing personal net-
works worked against the ability to play the role of ‘twenty-four-hour-a-day’
researcher along the lines typified by the anthropologist in the field. There
was too much of the ‘self’ in the ‘other’ to make this possible. I really did
not want to tap into or ‘exploit’ these networks of friends and turn them
into ethnographic research fodder. Aside from the ethical considerations at
stake, having to constantly negotiate between friend and researcher would
have been too exhausting. One particular incident where I was faced with
the need to balance the two roles will help illustrate the point. On this occa-
sion I happened to be out for drinks with a group of friends from the past,
one of whom had helped introduce me to one of the organizations I was
working with. In the course of the conversation, talk turned to the way that
company induction and training for young male recruits had been chang-
ing. Although this person, as well as the others, knew in a general way of
my interest in the area, the conversation was not specifically directed at me.
To the extent it was possible, I tried to maintain the topic of the conversation
by asking questions and raising points. However, given that it was a social
setting where no one really wanted to talk about work-related issues, the
conversation moved on to other topics. The dilemma I faced in this situation
reflected the overall insider/outsider conundrum. Should I, at the moment
the conversation spontaneously took a turn towards a topic of research inter-
est, have whipped out a tape recorder and consent forms and switched into
interviewing mode? However, would that not have destroyed the dynamics
of what was essentially a private conversation among a group of friends?
Alternatively, should I have committed the conversation to memory and

jotted it down in my notebook later? But what about the ethical consider-
ations of essentially ‘appropriating’ or even ‘plundering’ a private conver-
sation, without having obtained prior written consent, as I was required to
do by my university’s research ethics guidelines? Or perhaps I should have
arranged for the group to ‘stage’ a conversation for me on the same topic,
on another occasion, which I could tape. However, it was the spontaneity of
the discussion that had initially grabbed my attention, and it was doubtful
whether that spontaneity could be reproduced. Moreover, if I was to draw
upon this conversation with friends, should I not interact with everyone in
every situation as a potential ‘informant’? Although these other scenarios
may have been tempting, I opted for the ethical practice of confining my
direct research observations in my thesis to the formal interviews and dis-
cussions. Perhaps this dilemma, and the ‘solution’ I opted for, is reflective
of the shift in research methodology since the 1980s and 1990s, from a gen-
eral acceptance of the researcher going ‘undercover’ for the sake of ‘good’
research, even if this meant exploiting informants or deceiving them, to
an emphasis on transparency and accountability as essential to the research
process.
Either way, regardless of the ethical decisions made, this incident high-
lights the fuzzy zone in research represented by ‘friendship’. While there has
been some work in recent years on crossing sexual boundaries in fieldwork
relationships (see, for example, Kulick and Wilson, 1995; Markowitz and
Ashkenazi, 1999), friendship, as an ambiguous, complex, potentially dis-
ruptive dynamic in fieldwork has received less attention.3 Moreover, the
fact that in my research it was male–male friendship, in the context of
corporate masculinity, added another layer of complexity to the dynam-
ics. As I have discussed elsewhere (Dasgupta, 2012, pp. 136–140), male
homosociality (indeed, homosocial/homoemotional desire), often mediated
through group alcohol-based socializing, has long been an underpinning
of corporate salaryman masculinity in Japan (see Allison, 1994). Yet, at the
same time, as Michael Roper (1996, p. 213) notes, ‘circuits of homosocial
desire’ are not (indeed cannot be) consciously articulated. A public acknowl-
edgement of the existence of such circuits of potential (and actual) desire
would be contrary to the dominant discourse of corporate masculinity
(whether in Japan, or in the West). Yet, at the same time, these unac-
knowledged undercurrents of same-sex ‘energy’ also inform the operation
of corporate masculinity.
Another, somewhat related, issue was the fact that whereas friends and
associates were interested in helping me in any way possible, many were
not sure what exactly this new researcher incarnation of me was studying.
Explaining the project in terms of doing research about young male employ-
ees’ perceptions and values (kachi-kan) in relation to organizational culture
did make sense to most people. However, this often led to me being regaled
with comments about how Japanese youth were becoming lazy and losing
Romit Dasgupta 111
their moral fibre, and then being praised for seeking to draw attention to
this ‘problem’. The assumption was that I subscribed to the same views, and
that like any good social scientist I was going to study this social malady
and make appropriate recommendations. Where possible, I tried to rectify
this misunderstanding and counter what I regarded as a problematic view
of contemporary youth, but sometimes it was not possible to do so without
risking getting embroiled in pointless arguments. On the other hand, try-
ing to explain my research with reference to masculinity (otokorashisa) left
many people puzzled and unsure about whether there was anything for me
to research.
The other fallout from the insider/outsider role, and from being enmeshed
in webs of relationships, was that the very same familiarity that allowed
me to develop a rapport with informants also prevented me from explor-
ing certain issues at greater depth. In particular, despite the intertwinings
between sexuality and hegemonic masculinity, and despite my original
desire to explore the issue, I was only able to touch upon it in interviews
in a fairly perfunctory manner. The only exception was the interview with
one non-heterosexual informant whom I deliberately sought out to inter-
view, precisely due to the difficulty in broaching the topic with my other
informants. With the latter, on both sides, sexuality seemed like a taboo,
‘no-go’ zone. There seemed to be a mutual assumption of heterosexuality
at work, in our articulated interactions (Lunsing, 2001, pp. 65–66). As far
as the informants were concerned, my very familiarity with their lives, my
embeddedness in local ‘respectable’ networks and my status as a ‘respectable’
researcher seemed to signal that I could not be anything but the same as
themselves (or the appearance of themselves they were maintaining). This
was best evidenced by responses to the questions about marriage. In reply
to my question asking (single informants) if they planned to get married in
the future, and why, the response from many of them was along the lines
that, given that we were all (with myself implicated) ‘average, normal guys’,
it was the natural thing to get married.
On my part, this familiarity and common ground with the informants
prevented me from breaching this appearance of heteronormativity, even
when – as on at least two occasions – possible cracks in this façade presented
themselves, and may have provided rich material to explore, had both sides
not skirted round the issue. Part of this reticence to explore potentially ‘sen-
sitive’ areas (such as the extension of the homosocial into the homoerotic or
homosexual within corporate culture, or issues to do with sexual relations
with female colleagues) may have stemmed, as McKeganey and Bloor (1991)
note, from the researcher’s male gender influencing what can and cannot
be talked about when conducting qualitative research with men. Drawing
upon their own fieldwork experience, they comment that when conduct-
ing research in all-male groups, while ‘some topics are repeatedly covered,
others are . . . taboo’ (McKeganey and Bloor, 1991, p. 200). Moreover, avoid-
ing ‘taboo’ areas, or distancing them from the everyday lived experience of
the researcher and the informant(s), was a result of an almost unspoken,

tacit understanding between the two sides. Discussing one of their research
projects on therapeutic groups, McKeganey and Bloor (1991, p. 199) note
that despite the fact that ‘gay relationships, sexual attraction and desire
would be fully discussed within the formal therapeutic groups . . . on the rare
occasions that these topics surfaced in informal settings typical responses
would be under-reaction, embarrassment, and humorous distancing’. What
the researchers had to negotiate were ‘culturally approved male-to-male role
relationships’ (McKeganey and Bloor, 1991, p. 199; see also Gough, 2001,
p. 184).
In the case of my research, this kind of dynamic would have informed
the other considerations, such as age (being older than the informants), per-
ceived status (as a ‘respectable’ academic/researcher), as well as my being
too familiar, too much of an ‘insider’. Interestingly, over the period of my
fieldwork, there was a visiting researcher from the United States at the same
university I was associated with, who spoke no Japanese whatsoever, but nev-
ertheless managed to conduct a life-history project that delved into some of
the very same issues I had to skirt around. Ironically, this researcher’s lack
of Japanese and her consequent need to use an interpreter/research assistant
as a filter (or conduit) between herself and her informant, actually created
enough of a distance and sense of detachment for both sides to explore
issues that may otherwise have been embarrassing to tackle. Of course, there
may well have been other factors, such as gender and age, at work too. For
instance, the researcher from the United States was considerably older, and
this may have helped create a sense of comfort. Suzanne Culter (2003), for
example, reflects on how her status as an older female researcher benefited
her research. As she notes: ‘ . . . as a middle-aged female, I found that people
being interviewed . . . talked openly with me, even crying through the inter-
view, perhaps because of my matronly appearance and calm acceptance’
(Culter, 2003, p. 226). Clearly, there is no denying that mutual assump-
tions about male gender and about masculinity were a dynamic in my
research. An added complication (both in a positive and non-positive sense)
was that the researcher (myself) was also an insider/outsider, ‘halfie’ male.
Conclusion
I have drawn attention to some of the more sensitive and nuanced aspects
of the process of researching masculinities not to spotlight a shortcoming
or lacuna in the research. Rather, many of the issues discussed are possibly
common to the experiences of a far greater number of qualitative researchers
than would appear to be the case from published accounts of fieldwork.
If anything I believe that the self-reflexivity that informed my interactions
with my informants – basically, the need to be aware of the implications of
occupying an insider/outsider role – in the end, brought a richness to the
Romit Dasgupta 113
research, and a personal sense of achievement, arising from the realization

that my interactions with at least some of the informants were as much
about crafting relationships based on (male–male) friendship and mutual
respect as they were about interviewing.
Notes
1. The names I use for both organizations are pseudonyms.
2. For the advantages of interviewing informants more than once, see McDowell
(2001).
3. There are some exceptions – for instance, as mentioned previously in this chapter,
Esther Newton’s (1993) excellent reflective piece on her not-quite-sexual/not-quite-
platonic relationship with an elderly lesbian informant on Fire Island in New York,
and Kirin Narayan’s (1996) discussion of negotiating similar and different sub-
ject positions and world views with an informant/friend she had known for
many years in her field site in Kangra in northern India (see also Rabinow, 1977;
Crapanzano, 1980; Crick, 1992; Hendry, 1992). Kirsch (2005) provides an engaging
discussion of some of the complexities at stake in negotiating ‘friendship’ in the
field.
References
Abu-Lughod, L. (1991) ‘Writing Against Culture’ in R.G. Fox (ed.) Recapturing Anthro-
pology: Working in the Present (Santa Fe, New Mexico: School of American Research
Press).
Allison, A. (1994) Nightwork: Sexuality, Pleasure, and Corporate Masculinity in a Tokyo
Hostess Club (Chicago: University of Chicago Press).
Blackwood, E. (1995) ‘Falling in Love with an-Other Lesbian: Reflections on Identity in
Fieldwork’ in D. Kulick and M. Wilson (eds) Taboo: Sex, Identity and Erotic Subjectivity
in Anthropological Fieldwork (London: Routledge).
Chalmers, S. (2002) Emerging Lesbian Voices from Japan (London: RoutledgeCurzon).
Connell, R.W. and J.W. Messerschmidt (2005) ‘Hegemonic Masculinity: Rethinking
the Concept’, Gender and Society, 19, 829–859.
Crapanzano, V. (1980) Tuhami: Portrait of a Moroccan (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press).
Crick, M. (1992) ‘Ali and Me: An Essay in Street-Corner Anthropology’ in J. Okley and
H. Callaway (eds) Anthropology and Autobiography (London: Routledge).
Culter, S. (2003) ‘Beginning Trials and Tribulations: Rural Community Study and
Tokyo City Survey’ in T.C. Bestor, P.G. Steinhoff and V. Lyon Bestor (eds) Doing
Fieldwork in Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press).
Dasgupta, R. (2009) ‘The “Lost Decade” of the 1990s and Shifting Masculinities in
Japan’, Culture, Society and Masculinity, 1, 79–85.
Dasgupta, R. (2012) Re-reading the Salaryman in Japan: Crafting Masculinities (London:
Routledge).
Gough, B. (2001) ‘ “Biting Your Tongue”: Negotiating Masculinities in Contemporary
Britain’, Journal of Gender Studies, 10, 169–185.
Hendry, J. (1992) ‘The Paradox of Friendship in the Field: Analysis of a Long-term
Anglo-Japanese Relationship’ in J. Okley and H. Callaway (eds) Anthropology and
Autobiography (London: Routledge).
Kirsch, G.E. (2005) ‘Friendship, Friendliness, and Feminist Fieldwork’, Signs, 30,
2163–2172.
Kondo, D.K. (1986) ‘Dissolution and Reconstitution of Self: Implications for Anthro-
pological Epistemology’, Cultural Anthropology, 1, 74–88.
Kondo, D.K. (1990) Crafting Selves: Power, Gender, and Discourses of Identity in a Japanese
Workplace (Chicago: University of Chicago Press).
Kulick, D. and M. Wilson (eds) (1995) Taboo: Sex, Identity and Erotic Subjectivity in
Anthropological Fieldwork (London: Routledge).
Lunsing, W. (2001) Beyond Common Sense: Sexuality and Gender in Contemporary Japan
(London: Kegan Paul).
Mackie, V. (2002) ‘Embodiment, Citizenship and Social Policy in Contemporary Japan’
in R. Goodman (ed.) Family and Social Policy in Japan: Anthropological Approaches
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Markowitz, F. and M. Ashkenazi (eds) (1999) Sex, Sexuality, and the Anthropologist
(Urbana: University of Illinois Press).
McDowell, L. (2001) ‘ “It’s That Linda Again”: Ethical, Practical and Political Issues
Involved in Longitudinal Research with Young Men’, Ethics, Place and Environment,
4, 87–100.
McKeganey, N. and M. Bloor (1991) ‘Spotting the Invisible Man: The Influence of Male
Plummer, K. (1996) ‘Symbolic Interactionism in the Twentieth Century: The Rise of
Empirical Social Theory’ in B. S. Turned (ed.) The Blackwell Companion to Social
Theory (Oxford: Blackwell).
Narayan, K. (1993) ‘How Native is a “Native” Anthropologist?’, American Anthropolo-
gist, 95, 671–686.
Narayan, K. (1996) ‘Songs Lodged in Some Hearts: Displacement of Women’s Knowl-
edge in Kangra’ in S. Lavie and T. Swedenburg (eds) Displacement, Diaspora, and
Geographies of Identity (Durham: Duke University Press).
Newton, E. (1993) ‘My Best Informant’s Dress: The Erotic Equation in Fieldwork’,
Cultural Anthropology, 8, 3–23.
Ohnuki-Tierney, E. (1984) ‘ “Native” Anthropologist’, American Ethnologist, 11,
584–586.
Rabinow, P. (1977) Reflections on Fieldwork in Morocco (Berkeley: University of California
Press).
Roper, M. (1996) ‘ “Seduction and Success”: Circuits of Homosocial Desire in Man-
agement’ in D.L. Collinson and J. Hearn (eds) Men as Managers, Managers as Men:
Critical Perspectives on Men, Masculinities, and Management (London: Sage).
Ryang, S. (2005) ‘Dilemma of a Native: On Location, Authenticity, and Reflexivity’,
The Asia-Pacific Journal of Anthropology, 6, 143–157.
Shaffir, W.B. (1991) ‘Managing a Convincing Self-Presentation: Some Personal Reflec-
tions on Entering the Field’ in W.B. Shaffir and R.A. Stebbins (eds) Experiencing
Fieldwork: An Insider’s View of Qualitative Research (Newbury Park, CA: Sage).
Thapar-Björkert, S. (1999) ‘Negotiating Otherness: Dilemmas for a Non-Western
Researcher in the Indian Sub-Continent’, Journal of Gender Studies, 8, 57–69.
Tsuda, T. (1998) ‘Ethnicity and the Anthropologist: Negotiating Identities in the Field’,
Anthropological Quarterly, 71, 107–124.
9
Counting Men: Quantitative
Approaches to the Study of Men
and Masculinities
Roger Patulny and Barbara Pini
Introduction
This chapter departs from the others in this book in that it explores some
of the possibilities and pitfalls of quantitative approaches to understanding
men and masculinities, drawing on the experience of a study of social con-
nections and exclusion among Australian men and women. As co-authors,
we (Roger and Barbara) come to the chapter with different backgrounds,
values and subject positions, which we introduce below.
Roger: Men are more commonly represented among those who under-
take quantitative research. However, their object of study is perhaps less
commonly subject to ontological contestation. Objects such as money
(econometrics), population changes (demography) or human behaviour in
experimental laboratory conditions (psychology) usually have agreed value
and form among such researchers, and the quest to establish causality among
these objects supersedes that of exploring or challenging their essential
nature. While there is an extensive quantitative literature, largely from psy-
chology, which examines masculinity as a fixed and measureable male ‘sex
role’ defined by a set of particular attributes and/or dispositions (see Whorley
and Addis, 2006), male quantitative researchers less commonly examine the
more abstract social aspects of masculinity, such as gender differences and
inequities in social connection and exclusion within national populations.
Those men who do undertake such masculinity research tend to do so from
a qualitative background and limit their methods accordingly. In summary,
as a male quantitative social scientist, I take a heterodox approach to mas-
culinity research here by producing quantitative findings on social aspects
of masculinity generalizable to whole populations.
Barbara: I have a background largely in qualitative work, embedded in
feminist theory and practice. As such I am conversant with the method-
ological debates that have circulated in feminist scholarship. When Roger
115
116 Counting Men
presented his work at a seminar, we discussed the fact that the few method-
ological ruminations on men and masculinities research that do exist have
largely focused on qualitative approaches, particularly the interview (see
Chapter 1). In contrast, there is an extensive decades-old feminist literature
on quantitative methodologies. This has sometimes included the outright
rejection of quantitative methods (Stanley and Wise, 1983) along with
efforts to rework quantitative methods as feminist methods (Lawson, 1995).
Importantly, lively and contested debate on the feminist politics of counting
continues today with Hughes and Cohen (2010, p. 189) introducing a special
journal edition of feminism and quantitative methods, arguing that the sub-
ject is an ‘exceptionally timely’ one. They claim that this is the case given the
political imperative to address intersectionality in gender research and the
emergence of new technologies and online data sources. As we continued to
discuss Roger’s work, I suggested that it would be interesting to critique his
approach to the study of men and masculinities in the context of the wider
feminist methodological debates about quantitative methods. It is from this
that the chapter emerged. In order to provide a framework for Roger’s study,
I first provide an overview of the literature on feminism and quantitative
methods charting the main arguments presented for and against numeri-
cal approaches. Following this, Roger overviews his study before turning to
present his findings and reflect on some of the strengths and weaknesses the
quantitative approach he uses has for research on men and masculinities.
Quantitative research and the study of gender
Oakley (1998) has summarized the feminist critique of quantitative

approaches around three key themes she labels the ‘three Ps’ of positivism,
power and p values. As Oakley (1998) explains, positivism relies upon the
premise that knowledge exists as truth and scientific fact and that if claims
to truth and fact are to be given credibility, there is a need for researcher
objectivity and the avoidance of bias and contamination through the separa-
tion of the researcher (subject) from the researched (object). In responding to
these assumptions, feminist writers have pointed to the inherent subjectivity
of survey production (Graham, 1983), the way numbers have, throughout
history, been used to misrepresent women or even used politically against
women (Yllo, 1988), the usefulness to knowledge acquisition of being an
insider (Pini, 2004) and the embodied and lived experience of women’s
knowledge (Cook and Fonow, 1986).
By challenging positivism and its claims about knowledge and objectiv-
ity in this way, feminists have foregrounded what Oakley (1998) claims
is the second area of contention for feminists in relation to quantitative
approaches. Feminists have argued that quantitative techniques reproduce
hierarchical power relations while invalidating or obscuring women’s knowl-
edge and circumscribing opportunities for women’s voices to be heard.
Roger Patulny and Barbara Pini 117
Instead, they have sought to equalize the power differential in the research
relationship through reciprocity and reflexive attentiveness to subjectivity
and positionality in all stages of the research process. To this end, they
have suggested that qualitative approaches are more appropriate for feminist
research (Roberts, 1981; Bowles and Duelli-Klein, 1983).
The final area of dispute feminists have had with quantitative approaches
is, Oakley (1998, p. 711) states, ‘the sin of number-crunching’ or ‘p values
and all that’. While the focus on enumeration itself has been critiqued by
some feminists as indicative of a patriarchal desire for control (Millman
and Kanter, 1987), others have been more concerned with how statisti-
cal techniques and formulae, including the construction of variables and
‘representative’ survey populations, have misrepresented and/or obscured
women and their experiences. It is understandably of considerable concern
to the feminist project when ‘that which has no name, that for which we
have no words or concepts, is rendered mute and invisible’ (Du Bois, 1983,
p. 113). Adding to the discussion Farran (1990, p. 101) has contended that
statistics are ‘divorced from the context of their construction and thus lose
meanings they had for the people involved’ while Galasinski and Kozlowska
(2009, p. 280) have documented the disempowering effects for participants
when their ‘inability to fit their experiences into a questionnaire’ results in
frustration and distress.
Alongside the feminist methodological literature critiquing the ‘three Ps’
(Oakley, 1998) of quantitative research has emerged a more nuanced contri-
bution to the debate, which has destabilized any dichotomous construction
of qualitative and quantitative as, for example, feminist/non-feminist, non-
exploitative/exploitative, equal/hierarchical and non-reductive/reductive.
Illustrative of this was work that demonstrated that qualitative techniques
could also categorize, disempower and be exploitative (Pini, 2002). Comple-
menting this argument have been claims that the survey can be recuperated
for feminist political purposes (Griffin and Phoenix, 1994; Ryan and Golden,
2006; Peake, 2009; Scott, 2010; Williams, 2010). Central to this has been
the realization that method should emerge from the research questions and
moreover, method should not be conflated or confused with epistemol-
ogy and ontology. Several theorists (Lawson, 1995, p. 455; Cohen et al.,
2011, p. 583) have argued that this requires engagement with gender the-
ory, a heightened level of reflexivity about one’s own positionality and
the method, as well as a sensitivity to the context in which quantitative
methods are designed, gathered, analysed, circulated and importantly, con-
sumed. Such perspectives can overcome the antagonism between critical
perspectives and quantitative methods in drawing attention to the radical
potential of ‘counting’ for redressing disadvantage and promoting social
change.
There is consequently a growing scholarly and political imperative
for researchers of men and masculinities to examine the potential of
118 Counting Men
quantitative methods in their own work. It is this task that Roger addresses
in the following section.
Background to the project
The overall aim of this study was to examine gendered social connections
through the lens of social exclusion. There is an emerging consensus that
social exclusion is a relational concept with multiple dimensions linking eco-
nomic, social, political and cultural factors (Millar, 2007; Hulse and Saugeres,
2011). Social exclusion has been linked to gender, even when keeping in
mind that gender is itself a complex notion with varying definitions accord-
ing to different theories of feminism, masculinity and sexuality (Connell,
2009).
Social exclusion is gendered in that it is predicated on an economic
capacity to participate socially (Levitas et al., 2007), which is likely to dis-
advantage females given their reduced financial capacity through lower
wages (England, 2005) and marginal labour market involvement (Rees, 1998;
Jackson, 1999), and their greater income and time poverty from single par-
enthood (Saunders et al., 2007). However, social interaction is dependent
upon the strength and breadth of one’s social networks as well as financial
and time capacity. Several studies in Australia have found that Australian
men have poorer social support networks and higher levels of loneliness
(Flood, 2005; Heady and Warren, 2007; Franklin and Tranter, 2008). This is
particularly acute in situations of marital breakdown and the loss of joint
social networks (Shapiro and Keys, 2008; De Vaus et al., 2009).
The key research questions within the study were therefore:
1. Are men more socially disconnected and women more socially excluded?
2. Do higher levels of income reduce disconnection and exclusion for one
of the sexes in particular?
3. Does separating from one’s partner increase disconnection and exclusion
for one of the sexes in particular?
Two sets of secondary data were employed for this study. The use of national
secondary data reduces the scope for reflexivity in design, as the data is
generalizable to whole populations (rather than being designed to target
sub-populations of men and women, for example) and the questions are
pre-formulated across a range of research topics, epistemologies and onto-
logical positions. Reflexivity instead comes in identifying strengths and
weaknesses of the results for the quantitative method, from the point of
view of quantitative researcher, which will be addressed below.
The first dataset was the Household Income and Labour Dynamics in
Australia Survey (HILDA), an annual longitudinal survey running since
2001 with surveys of approximately 14,000 people per year aged 15 and
over. The data used here is pooled from the first seven waves of HILDA
respondents, containing a total of 37,382 male and 41,256 female respon-
dents (78,637 total respondents). Clustering techniques were employed to
adjust for inflated standard errors associated with pooling the data.
Two summative scales were derived from the HILDA data, one pertaining
to social exclusion and the other to social connection. The questions used
to build the scales were included in all seven of the waves of HILDA used in
this study, and are as follows:
• Social exclusion (scale 0–7): Could not pay electricity, gas or telephone
bills on time; could not pay the mortgage or rent on time; pawned
or sold something; went without meals; was unable to heat home;
asked for financial help from friends or family; asked for help from
welfare/community organizations.
• Social connection (scale 0–70): I don’t have anyone that I can confide in;
I often feel very lonely; people don’t come to visit me as often as I would
like; I often need help from other people but can’t get it; I seem to have
a lot of friends; I have no one to lean on in times of trouble; there is
someone who can always cheer me up when I’m down; I enjoy the time
I spend with the people who are important to me; when something is
on my mind, just talking with the people I know can make a difference;
when I need someone to help me out, I can usually find someone.
The second dataset employed for this study was the Australian Time Use
Survey (ATUS). This is a representative national survey of 13,617 diary days
(6,385 male; 7,232 females) conducted in 2006. Time Use variables such as
average minutes per day spent in various activities can be developed from
this dataset. ATUS data is gathered for all household members 15 years and
over, for two-day time diaries.
The ATUS dataset provides information not only on activities completed
in a day, but on time spent in the presence of others. The key indicator
used for this study was social time spent with friends/family from outside
the household. Further indicators were calculated to produce estimates of
time spent alone, time spent with just household family (partners, children
and relatives) and time spent with non-family friends such as colleagues,
neighbours, housemates, other people’s children and strangers.
Weighted descriptive statistics and regression models were produced
for each set of data. Descriptive statistics included mean scores on the
HILDA scales, and in terms of minutes per day in the time use data.
Regressions included linear Ordinary Least Squares (OLS) models that con-
trol for key demographics: sex, income and marital status. They also con-
trolled for employment/retirement, long hours, education, English-speaking
ability, disability, perceived poor health and urban residency.
120 Counting Men
Results and reflections on the qualitative approach
We turn first to examine the HILDA data on gendered social exclusion.

Figure 9.1 shows social exclusion for men and women by marital status.
The usefulness of the quantitative approach is immediately apparent, in that
a clear picture emerges from this basic examination of national statistics
showing that Australian women are, overall, more socially excluded than
Australian men. There is also a fairly clear interaction between sex and mar-
ital status in predicting social exclusion; women who are separated with
children are much more likely to be socially excluded than men. However,
women who separate without children are much less likely to be socially
excluded than their male equivalents.
There are several implications of quantitative findings such as these for
masculinity research. These findings demonstrate the versatility and increas-
ing sophistication of quantitative data, in that it is not just income, but
the consequences of a lack of income (social exclusion) that can be investi-
gated. The data also allow us to make inferences about the population as
a whole, or about sub-populations such as women or single mothers. The
quantitative data can confirm anecdotal or context-specific qualitative find-
ings more typical of masculinity research in a manner generalizable to the
population. This data also reveals which population subgroup is most disad-
vantaged or is subject to the greatest inequities relative to other categories
and sexes in a manner that goes beyond anecdote. It shows that in this
45.00
40.00
35.00
30.00
25.00
20.00
15.00
10.00
5.00
0.00
All Married or Married or Divorced Divorced Never
live couple, live couple, separated separated married
kids no kids widow, kids widow, no
kids
Men
Women
Figure 9.1 HILDA – social exclusion (% 1 item+) by marital/parental status

case it is single mothers, but not separated women in general, who are more
excluded relative to men.
Some of the drawbacks of quantitative approaches also become apparent.
The first of these is a tendency towards adopting binary oppositions, such
as between heterosexual men and women as universal categories. There is
inevitably little scope to address questions about non-binary gender cate-
gories, as discussed in research on sexuality, transsexuality or queer theory.
An exploration of the HILDA data on gendered social connection and dis-
connection provides further insight into the strengths and weaknesses of a
quantitative approach to studying masculinity. Figure 9.2 shows perceived
social disconnection for men and women by marital status. The usefulness
of the quantitative approach in presenting a broad national picture is again
apparent. This data presents a picture in many ways opposite to that of social
exclusion in that it is men who report more perceived social disconnection
than women across all categories of marital status.
Marital separation is clearly associated with higher levels of perceived
social disconnection for both sexes, though the sense of disconnection
appears to be stronger for separated men. Of interest, women with chil-
dren report higher levels of perceived social disconnection, whether married
or separated, than women without children. However, men with children
report higher levels of perceived disconnection only when married. Sep-
arated men with or without children are as likely to experience social
32.0
30.0
28.0
26.0
24.0
22.0
20.0
All Married or Married or Divorced Divorced Never
live couple, live couple, separated separated married
kids no kids widow, kids widow,
no kids
Men
Women
Figure 9.2 HILDA social disconnection (10–70) by marital/parental status

122 Counting Men
disconnection as each other, and more likely than any other combination
of sex and marital status.
This again demonstrates the benefits of the quantitative method for mas-
culinity research. Even more than social exclusion, social disconnection
represents a topic of research that might, on the surface, appear not to be
amenable to quantitative measurement due to the sensitive nature of the
subject matter. It might seem intuitive to think that only deeply personal
and contextualized in-depth interviews would be capable of eliciting the
required information. However, the present study reveals that the process
of comparing statistical data on different groups of men – such as separated
men and single fathers – reveal those groups that are most at risk of social
isolation and disconnection. Putting numbers on such phenomena can help
with identifying the most vulnerable groups in society and formulating pol-
icy to address their needs. Again, however, the lack of context for the data
is problematic in that the results potentially open up more questions than
they resolve. That is, we know that single men and separated men are more
disconnected, but cannot really say why or whether the subjects themselves
are likely to care. To some extent, this limitation can be addressed with more
sophisticated measurement techniques such as asking respondents to assess
the importance of contact as well as estimating their own levels of con-
tact (see Patulny and Wong, 2013). However, the lack of contextual details
remains a weakness in the approach.
The next type of analysis is to examine social time within the day by
marital status, using the ATUS. Time Use data is a particularly important
source of data in gender and masculinity research. It is useful because it
reveals much about the informal world – such as time patterns in private
households, and gendered activities such as housework and care work – that
often escape more conventional surveys. It is also useful in the context of
this study because it can be used to distinguish between perceived versus
actual social disconnection, or the actual experience of spending time alone
or without the contact of family and friends versus feelings of being lonely, a
distinction noted in the social isolation literature (Howat et al., 2004; Flood,
2005; Hawthorne, 2008).
It can be seen in Figure 9.3 that men consistently have less social contact
with friends and family who live outside the household than women in most
categories of marital status. Men also spend more time alone than women
across most categories. Partnered parents of either sex have less social contact
but also less time alone. Separated mothers spend an equivalent amount of
time in social contact and alone to most other women, but separated fathers
show more extreme time patterns than other men, with more social contact
but also more time alone. One of the most interesting results goes against
that established above with the HILDA data. Separation without children
has a strangely adverse effect for women; they spend almost no more time
in social contact, but more time alone than any other category of person.
By contrast, separated men without children have more social contact than
100%
90%
80%
70%
60%
50%
40%
30%
20%
10%
0%
F M F M F M F M F M
Married or live Married or Divorced Divorced Never
couple, kids live couple, separated separated married
no kids widow, kids widow, no kids
Alone HH family Colleagues, Friends/exH

only neighbours, H family/mix
strangers, etc. inHH and exHH
persons
Figure 9.3 ATU06 time with others by marital, parental status
any other men except those who are single, and the large amount of time
they spend alone is still less than that of women. This is also the only marital
status category in which men have more social contact than women.
Taken in combination with the HILDA findings in Figure 9.2, it would
suggest that separated women without children have less contact and lots of
time alone, but do not seem to mind, as they report lower levels of perceived
social disconnection and exclusion. Separated men without children are the
opposite, having more social contact and less time alone, but feeling worse
about it in that they report higher levels of perceived disconnection and
social exclusion. These findings may be the result of other factors, such as
employment status or work hours.
The implications of these findings for masculinity research are that they
show how quantitative data can unravel some of the complexities of
analysing perceptions as opposed to activities and practices. A limitation
of qualitative data is that it often relies upon the perceived feelings asso-
ciated with the phenomenon being analysed, which can be subject to a
number of forms of bias (interviewer, perception, recall, normative) when
seeking precise estimates of behaviours (such as time spent with others).
The quantitative time-diary method employed here circumvents many of
these biases by asking questions simply about how people spend their time.
124 Counting Men
It allows respondents to record shifting contexts of time, space, activity

and co-presence throughout the day as they like, without any influence or
emphasis by the interviewer in the pursuit of particular results.
Some of the previously noted drawbacks are still apparent. The dispar-
ity between perceived and actual support for separated men is interesting.
However, it cannot be probed further without additional questioning for
meaning or additional explanation using the quantitative method. We can-
not, for example, determine how interesting, enjoyable or meaningful the
time patterns were to the respondents, though recent studies using time and
affect diaries (Kahneman and Krueger, 2006) may correct this problem in the
future.
A final aspect of the quantitative approach I wish to examine in terms
of its usefulness for research on masculinity concerns the use of regres-
sion analysis (see Table 9.1), which can uncover and refract the impact
Table 9.1 Regression models, social connection and exclusion: HILDA and ATU
Regression models Logit marginal Ordinary Least Squares

effects
HILDA ATU
Social Social Friends Alone time

exclusion disconnection time (min) (min)
Male 0.02∗∗ 2.78∗∗ –22∗ –9

Male∗ high income −0.01 0.01 6 29∗
Male∗ low income −0.01 –0.25∗ 18 –15
Never married −0.03∗∗ 1.03∗∗ 102∗∗ 383∗∗
Married or live −0.05∗∗ –1.55∗∗ 70∗∗ 13
couple, no kids
Divorced separated 0.16∗∗ 1.9∗∗ 78∗∗ 74∗∗
widow, kids
Divorced separated 0.07∗∗ 0.82∗∗ 124∗∗ 797∗∗
widow, no kids
Student 0.03∗∗ –0.4 87∗∗ –39
Part-time employed 0.02∗∗ 0 44∗∗ –1
Unemployed 0.19∗∗ 2.86∗∗ 67∗∗ –3
NILF 0.08∗∗ 1.49∗∗ 27∗∗ –1
Retired 0.02∗∗ 0.24 22 43∗∗
Low income (low 0.12∗∗ 1∗∗ 10 –25∗∗
three deciles)
High income (top −0.11∗∗ –1.17∗∗ 14 –6
three deciles)
Ref – full-time employed, married/de facto with kids
Other controls – age, age squared, education, disability, born in this country, urban
∗∗ p < 0.05, ∗ p < 0.1.

of other aspects of social difference besides that of gender (Lawson, 1995,

p. 453). In taking this approach, the study not only draws on the notion of
intersectionality, but demonstrates the potential of quantitative approaches
for studying intersectionality (Yuval-Davis, 2006). As such, the study exam-
ined sex not simply as a single predictor in running regression models, but in
interaction with other key social characteristics such as class, marital status,
geographic location and age.
The first two models predicted social exclusion and perceived social con-
nection using the HILDA data, and the next two predicted social time spent
with friends and family outside the household and time spent alone using
the ATUS data. The first model predicting social exclusion utilized a binary
logistic specification, and produced marginal effects that reveal the percent-
age increase or decrease in the chances of the respondent reporting any
social exclusion (having a score greater than zero on the social exclusion
scale) on the basis of the independent variables adopting a particular cate-
gory (e.g. male, high income, unmarried and so on). The remaining models
used OLS specifications, predicting a one unit change in the dependent vari-
able (increase in social disconnection scale in HILDA, or increase in minutes
of time in ATUS) on the basis of the independent variables.
The HILDA data suggests that once controls are introduced, men are
slightly more likely to exhibit social exclusion, but only by a very small mar-
gin of 2 per cent (0.02). This may be driven by their penchant for more social
disconnection once income is controlled for. Men are also more likely to be
socially disconnected (with a mean score 2.78 points higher than women).
The time use data shows that men are predicted to spend around 22 minutes
less time per day in social contact, but no less time alone. The combined
data therefore suggests that, even after introducing all other controls, men
are significantly more likely to be socially disconnected than women, which
is a relevant and interesting finding for masculinity research.
These results provide further support for the quantitative method when
applied to masculinity research. They have the advantage of showing which
factors are most important in driving observed results, and whether these
factors are more important for men or women. The models allow us to see
the effects of being male and female on social connection and exclusion,
controlling for the influence of other factors, and in interaction with those
other factors (such as income).
Such methods are disadvantaged however by the complex and contested
nature of regression modelling, whereby debates over the appropriateness
of one model or another often drown out even basic (and often interesting
and useful) findings. In the present example, more attention might have
been paid to looking for further correlations and ‘interaction effects’ such as
between gender and marital status. It is not always clear which variables
should be included in the models as controls, and which as interaction
effects, even assuming that they are included in the model. Unobserved
126 Counting Men
heterogeneity is a common problem, in that unobserved variables not

included in the model may have all sorts of gender dimensions and rela-
tions. And once again, general and gender-specific meanings are often lost
in the numbers. We cannot be sure why men seem to report a higher inci-
dence of social exclusion after controls are introduced. It might be due to
the effect of the controls used here, unobserved heterogeneity, or even per-
haps poor sample sizes once many controls are introduced into a regression
model. These are all cautions to be brought to future research.
Conclusion
This chapter presents several results from a quantitative analysis of gendered

social exclusion, which demonstrate the usefulness of a numerical approach
for the study of men and masculinities. The analysis of data from
HILDA showed that men report lower levels of social exclusion and higher
levels of perceived social disconnection, and that this effect is strongest
among separated men. The analysis of data from the Time Use survey
revealed that men experience reduced social time with ex-HH (Household)
friends and family regardless of controls. However, it also found that while
partnered parents have the least social contact, separated non-parents and
singles have the most. The contradictions between these data paint an
interesting, generalizable and important picture about an under-researched
aspect of masculinity in Australia that might not necessarily be visible in a
qualitative study. They also reveal the prevalence and distribution of aspects
of gender inequality between men and women in contemporary Australia,
and are therefore important to progressing the political project of feminism.
The fact that the study’s findings were taken up by the national media
when gender research typically struggles for profile also suggests that, as
Westmarland (2001) claims, the legitimacy afforded to quantitative methods
may give feminist claims on the state and media greater audibility. For gov-
ernment and community groups concerned with inequality between men
and women, and between particular groups of men and women, the data can
address political imperatives. At the same time the results highlight some of
the well-rehearsed limitations of quantitative studies and need to be read
as contingent and circumscribed if we are to ‘reinvigorate the critical sensi-
bility of quantitative research’ (Kwan and Schwanen, 2009, p. 289). We thus
present the study and its findings to exemplify that while quantitative meth-
ods are not always appropriate to capture all the relevant, contextual and
ontological characteristics that form the objects of analysis in sociology, cul-
tural and gender studies, they can make a vital contribution to masculinity
research. In this sense we concur with Letherby (2004, p. 185) who writes
that critical scholarship – including, of course, critical studies of men and
masculinities – is not about paradigm war but ‘the relationship between
the process and the product, between doing and knowing; how what we
do affects what we get.’
References
Bowles, G. and R. Duelli-Klein (eds) (1983) Theories of Women’s Studies (London:
Routledge).
Cohen, R.L., C. Hughes and R. Lampard (2011) ‘The Methodological Impact of
Feminism: A Troubling Issue for Sociology?’, Sociology, 45, 570–586.
Connell, R. (2009) Gender: In World Perspective (Cambridge: Polity Press).
Cook, J.A. and M.M. Fonow (1986) ‘Knowledge and Women’s Interests: Issues of Epis-
temology and Methodology in Feminist Sociological Research’, Sociological Inquiry,
56, 2–29.
De Vaus, D., M. Gray, L. Qu and D. Stanton (2009) ‘The Effect of Relationship Break-
down on Income and Social Exclusion’, paper presented to the Australian Social
Policy Conference, University of New South Wales, Sydney, July 8.
DuBois, B. (1983) ‘Passionate Scholarship: Notes on Values, Knowing and Method in
Feminist Social Sciences’ in G. Bowles and R. Duelli Klein (eds) Theories of Women’s
Studies (London: Routledge).
England, P. (2005) ‘Gender Inequality in Labour Markets: The Role of Motherhood
and Segregation’, State and Society, 12, 264–288.
Farran, D. (1990) ‘Seeking Susan: Producing Statistical Information on Young People’s
Leisure’ in L. Stanley (ed.) Feminist Praxis (London: Routledge).
Flood, M. (2005) Mapping Loneliness in Australia, The Australia Institute, Discussion
Paper 76 (Canberra: The Australia Institute).
Franklin, A. and B. Tranter (2008) Loneliness in Australia, Housing and Community
Research Unit, Paper 13 (Hobart: University of Tasmania).
Galasinski, D. and O. Kozlowska (2010) ‘Questionnaires and Lived Experience:
Strategies of Coping With the Quantitative Frame’, Qualitative Inquiry, 16, 271–284.
Graham, H. (1983) ‘Do Her Answers Fit His Questions? Women and the Survey
Method’ in E. Gamarnikow, D. Morgan, J. Purvis and D. Taylorson (eds) The Public
and the Private (London: Heinemann).
Griffin, C. and A. Phoenix (1994) ‘The Relationship Between Qualitative and Quantita-
tive Research: Lessons From Feminist Psychology’, Journal of Community and Applied
Social Psychology, 4, 287–298.
Heady, B. and D. Warren (2007) Families, Income and Jobs, Volume 2: A Statistical Report
on Waves 1 to 4 of the HILDA Survey (Melbourne: Melbourne Institute of Applied
Economic and Social Research).
Hughes, C. and R.L. Cohen (2010) ‘Feminists Really do Count: The Complexity of
Feminist Methodologies’, International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 13,
189–196.
Hulse, K. and L. Saugeres (2008) Home Life, Work and Housing Decisions: A Qualita-
tive Analysis, National Research Venture 1, Research Paper 7 (Melbourne: Australian
Housing and Urban Research Institute).
Jackson, C. (1999) ‘Social Exclusion and Gender’, The European Journal of Development
Research, 11, 125–146.
Jayaratne, T.E. (1983) ‘The Value of Quantitative Methodology for Feminist Research’
in G. Bowles and R. Duelli-Klein (eds) Theories of Women’s Studies (Routledge:
London).
Kwan, M. and T. Schwanen (2009) ‘Quantitative Revolution 2: The Critical Re(turn)’,
The Professional Geographer, 61, 283–291.
Lawson, V. (1995) ‘The Politics of Difference: Examining the Quantitative/Qualitative
Dualism in Post-Structuralist Feminist Research’, Professional Geographer, 47,
449–457.
128 Counting Men
Letherby, G. (2004) ‘Quoting and Counting: An Autobiographical Response to

Oakley’, Sociology, 38, 175–189.
Levitas, R., C. Pantazis, E. Fahmy, D. Gordon, E. Lloyd and D. Patsios (2007) The Multi-
dimensional Analysis of Social Exclusion (Bristol: Department of Sociology and School
for Public Policy, University of Bristol).
Millar, J. (2007) ‘Social Exclusion and Social Policy Research: Defining Exclusion’ in
D. Abrams, J. Christian and D. Gordon (eds) Multidisciplinary Handbook of Social
Exclusion Research (Chichester: Wiley).
Millman, M. and R.M. Kanter (1987) ‘Introduction. Another Voice: Feminist Perspec-
tives on Social Life and Social Science’ in M. Millman and R.M. Kanter (eds) Garden
City (New York: Anchor Doubleday).
Oakley, A. (1998) ‘Gender, Methodology and People’s Ways of Knowing: Some Prob-
lems With Feminism and the Paradigm Debate in Social Science’, Sociology, 32,
707–731.
Patulny, Roger and Melissa Wong (2013) ‘Poor Mothers and Lonely Single Males: The
‘Essentially’ Excluded Women and Men of Australia’, Social Policy and Society, 12 (2),
221–239
Peake, L. (2009) ‘Feminist and Quantitative? Measuring the Extent of Domestic Vio-
lence in Georgetown, Guyana’, Treballs de la Societat Catalana de Geografia, 66,
133–148.
Pini, B. (2002) ‘Focus Groups, Feminist Research and Farm Women: Opportunities for
Empowerment in Rural Social Research’, Journal of Rural Studies, 18, 339–351.
Pini, B. (2004) ‘On Being a Nice Country Girl and an Academic Feminist: Using
Reflexivity in Rural Social Research’, Journal of Rural Studies, 20, 169–179.
Rees, T. (1998) ‘Social Exclusion and Equal Opportunities’, International Planning
Studies, 3, 15–34.
Roberts, H. (ed.) (1981) Doing Feminist Research (London: Routledge).
Ryan, L. and A. Golden (2006) ‘ “Tick the Box Please”: A Reflexive Approach to Doing
Quantitative Social Research’, Sociology, 40, 1191–1200.
Saunders, P., Y. Naidoo and M. Griffiths (2007) Towards New Indicators of Disadvantage:
Deprivation and Social Exclusion in Australia, SPRC Report, November 2007 (Sydney:
Social Policy Research Centre, University of New South Wales).
Scott, J. (2010) ‘Quantitative Methods and Gender Inequalities’, International Journal
of Social Research Methodology, 13, 223–236.
Shapiro, A. and C.L.M. Keyes (2008) ‘Marital Status and Social Well-Being: Are the
Married Always Better Off?’, Social Indicators Research, 88, 329–346.
Stanley, L. and S. Wise (1983) Breaking Out: Feminist Consciousness and Feminist Research
Westmarland, N. (2001) ‘The Quantitative/Qualitative Debate and Feminist Research:
A Subjective View of Objectivity’, FQS Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 2 (1) http://
www.qualitative-research.net/index.php/fqs\.
Whorley, M.R. and M.E. Addis (2006) ‘Ten Years of Psychological Research on Men
and Masculinity in the United States: Dominant Methodological Trends’, Sex Roles,
55, 649–658.
Williams, J.R. (2010) ‘Doing Feminist Demography’, International Journal of Social
Research Methodology, 13, 197–210.
Yllo, K. (1988) ‘Political and Methodological Debates in Wife Abuse Research’ in
K. Yllo and M. Bograd (eds) Feminist Perspectives on Wife Abuse (Newbury Park, CA:
Sage).
Yuval-Davis, N. (2006) ‘Intersectionality and Feminist Politics’, European Journal of
Women’s Studies, 13, 193–209.
10
Ongoing Methodological
Problematics: Masculinities
and Male Rock Climbers
Victoria Robinson
Introduction
My qualitative research study of sporting masculinities (Robinson, 2008)

investigated how the sport of rock climbing in the United Kingdom was
experienced and practised at the everyday level by male (and female)
climbers. The world of male rock climbers, which was explored in this study,
was a ‘largely taken for granted world that remains clandestine, yet consti-
tutes what Lefebvre calls the “common ground” or “connective tissue” of all
conceivable human thoughts and activities’ (Gardiner, 2000, p. 2). It was a
clandestine world because UK rock climbing as a sporting site had not been
systematically studied before. I was also concerned to investigate the ‘com-
mon ground’ and ‘connective tissue’ of the climbing world in as much as a
central focus of the research was how a sporting site connects to everyday
life more generally. I was specifically interested in identifying any poten-
tial contradictions in men’s embodied experiences so that the possibility of
shifting male identities could be explored in detail. Inherent to this aim was
a concern with a critical consideration of the ‘extreme’ (also characterized
as the extraordinary) represented by the activity of climbing, which is often
defined as an ‘extreme sport’ due to the attendant risks and potential danger,
in terms of what it reveals about both static and changing masculinities.
My interest was also in the possibilities of any re-conceptualization of
the boundaries of the extraordinary and the mundane, the latter charac-
terized here by the wider, everyday worlds of the male climbers as workers,
fathers and lovers, for example. Further, while we already know much about
men’s and women’s public performances of sport, we know less about how
this interacts with the private sphere, or the emotional/subjective aspects of
sporting identities, or, therefore, this ‘taken for granted’ clandestine world.
Furthermore, Highmore (2002, p. 3) argues that the exceptional is ‘there to
be found at the heart of the everyday’, going on to show that understanding
129
130 Ongoing Methodological Problematics
the mysterious and the bizarre involves scrutinizing the everyday, for that is
exactly its site.
Since my original research was carried out, new work has emerged, which
has involved both a more systematic consideration of the emotional, sen-
sual and aesthetic dimensions of extreme sports, and a conception of men’s
sporting identity as being ‘in transition’ across different spheres, with some
of this new research influenced, in part, by my earlier ideas (see Thorpe and
Rinehart, 2010; Wheaton, 2010, 2013; Booth, 2011; Thorpe, 2011, 2012, for
examples of these developments).
An investigation into men, masculinities, intimacy and the emotions can
be seen in Whitehead’s (2002) concern with a problematizing of the public–
private divide in relation to work in comparison to home life. He concludes
that feelings of love and anxiety are not easily abandoned just because men
often move between home and work. In addition, intimate relations are
not produced solely in the private world (see Collinson and Hearn, 1996).
However, Whitehead also argues that this public/private dualism has not
been particularly explored in relation to areas such as leisure. Therefore, my
research on sporting masculinities focussed on aspects of men’s emotion,
which were common to the male rock climbers in sporting, home and work
contexts; for example, those such as trust, vulnerability and male friend-
ships. The idea of ‘masculinities in transition’ sums up men’s movements
across and within different spheres, and the impact of growing older and
life-course events on these shifts.
In this chapter, I am concerned with reflecting on and revisiting the theo-
retical and methodological aspects and challenges that I initially encoun-
tered while researching men and masculinities in an extreme sporting
environment, particularly in relation to men’s reflexivity and in the context
of the insider–outsider position of the researcher.
In terms of my sample, including the pilot study, I interviewed 47 people
over the course of the research with ages ranging from 21 to 76. Thirty-
three men were interviewed who were either climbers or lapsed climbers.
Fourteen women were interviewed, from whom eight identified as climbers,
while six female participants did not climb, but were involved in a heterosex-
ual relationship with a male climber. All participants were white and all the
male participants identified as heterosexual. In comparison, 12 female inter-
viewees defined themselves as heterosexual, while two identified as lesbian.
Most of the participants would be classified as middle class, due to their edu-
cation or occupation. This demographic can also be seen in other countries
such as the United States, where climbing is largely a white and middle-class
leisure pursuit, with increasing numbers of women pursuing the sport, some
at high levels (see Robinson, 2013).
Further to using semi-structured interviews, particularly in my analysis of
the data, I drew upon a reflexive auto-ethnography via my previous expe-
rience as a rock climber over a period of years. My own experience has
Victoria Robinson 131
included traditional and sport climbing on both rock and ice in the United
Kingdom, Europe and the United States, where I have climbed with male
partners and friends of both sexes (although when I carried out the research
I defined myself as a lapsed climber, since then I have returned to climb-
ing, if in a limited way, for example, sport climbing in Thailand). Further,
through participant observation, I was also able to observe a number of the
climbers in diverse sporting and social situations.
‘Mundane extremities’ and reflexivity
In Robinson (2003), I had initially argued that the ‘extreme’ was a relatively
straightforward concept in relation to extreme sports. Thus, the extreme
could be seen in the fact that to be a good or ‘extreme’ climber, some of the
men had dieted obsessively to enable them to reach their idealized weight,
even to the extent of weighing their food so that their calorie intake did not
go over 1,000 calories a day. Or, alternatively, in terms of the risks taken, the
extremes of pain and injury were confirmed in a number of the climbers’
accounts and often, an acceptance of possible death in certain climbing sit-
uations or, further, a resignation that relationships were likely to fail due to
the intensive nature of the leisure pursuit.
But, as my empirical work in this area of sporting masculinities pro-
gressed, I found that an exploration of mundane and extreme experiences
in ‘extreme sports’ reveals the everyday nature of the practices, which con-
stitute rock climbing in a more problematic way than originally anticipated.
In certain contexts, what might be considered ‘extreme’ behaviour by most
people, such as courting injury or evident risk-taking, was viewed as more
‘mundane’ and everyday by the rock climbers in the study. Conversely, for
some of the participants, it was through the mundane practices associated
with climbing, such as assisting a partner to climb a route by ‘belaying’,
which sometimes entails hours spent in isolation paying out a rope, with the
climber many feet above, that close male friendships were formed, and not,
as might be expected, through extreme events such as accidents or daring
and spectacular sporting exploits, as this climber, aged 28, revealed:
And, there’s a lot of bonding that goes on. It doesn’t need to be a par-
ticularly hard climb, but I mean, if the weather changes, if you’re on
a long route and you get soaking wet through . . . I think those kinds of
experiences always help kind of cement friendships.
Central, therefore, to this problematizing of the everyday, the mundane

and the extreme, or extraordinary, is my conception of ‘mundane extrem-
ities’. For some of the interviewees, the ‘exceptional’ activities associated
with climbing were very quickly routinized and came to consist of largely
standardized climbing activities. This is something that Heywood (2006) has
commented on, using Weber’s term of a ‘disenchanted’ world to show how

rock climbing, over time, becomes normal, predictable and measured. Thus,
what is considered ordinary or extraordinary shifts, according to the loca-
tion a person has to the sport of climbing, as insider or outsider. It also
shifts for climbers themselves. A particular example of this would be how
climbers’ conceptions of the ordinary and extraordinary in relation to their
own masculine identities changed as they got older, in having to reassess
where a life hitherto centred around climbing was leading. If climbing as a
pursuit was often used to put everyday life in perspective, such as relation-
ship difficulties, or to escape from the routine aspects of much of everyday
living, for example, unsatisfying or badly paid work, the mundane, every-
day aspects of life were sometimes adopted by climbers as they aged, albeit
quite often reluctantly. In response, therefore, they reinvented the mean-
ing of the mundane world of relationships, work and families, over the life
course. For example, this was evident when their injured bodies could not
let them perform at the standard they had previously achieved, or when a
long-term relationship became, perhaps for the first time, a priority, or they
chose not to take part in climbing activities, such as mountaineering, which
were considered too risky when they became a parent.
There are, of course, methodological implications in all this. This includes
how the diverse experiences of embodied sporting participants are able to
be seen and made sense of (see Thorpe, 2011) and how emotional lives, that
is, the inner lives of men, are accessed. Further, how to ‘get at’ masculinity
itself raises some difficult methodological issues. In the research, I acknowl-
edged earlier work of mine with Hockey and Meah (2007) in relation to the
concept of heterosexuality in which it was utilized as a taken for granted,
assumed category and compared as an identity category to masculinity – as
well as to whiteness and able-bodiedness – for all these categories achieve
and maintain their dominance by virtue of their invisibility and the fact
they are ‘unmarked’. Therefore, the researcher might well face problematic
issues when asking men to reflect on their masculinity, as it is precisely this
taken-for-grantedness of masculinity that can engender a barrier to reflex-
ivity. To ask men about how they perceive themselves as conforming to,
resisting, or failing to live up to dominant expectations of being a man
can mean, for example, that men have to face up to painful feelings of
inadequacy. This can be reflected in their private life if their sporting life
encroaches on their relationship or ability to be an adequate father, or in
relation to the identity and reputation they have as a climber, as their age
and their bodies start to betray them in terms of what they are capable of
achieving in the sporting sphere.
Certainly, some of the interviewees did struggle to think critically and
reflexively about their lives as men. Becoming a man was seen as a process
co-ordinated by a succession of events, which they had perceived as mark-
ing their status as ‘masculine’. In learning specifically to be a sporting male,
some of the men in the study had been able to control their emotions. This
could be seen, for example, in not showing weakness or fear when faced
with a dangerous situation, when on a route above the level they normally
climbed at, or in accepting pain as part of a ‘normal’ and masculinizing
sporting experience. This was also apparent when they sometimes displayed
sexist attitudes regarding female climbers’ capabilities and achievements.
And, in so doing, they found it hard to see such experiences in gendered
terms, for instance, in relation to them having power through virtue of being
male in an extreme sport given the still dominant ratio of male to female
climbers. Further, some climbers failed to see injury, and a reckless attitude
to their bodies, as being connected to dominant ideologies of hegemonic
masculinity, which prioritize bravado or risk-taking behaviour, as could be
seen when a male climber described training practices as ‘shredding their
hands to bits’.
However, other participants were able to be open about, or even critically
engage with, such processes that can be seen to constitute ‘masculinity’.
This could be due, for example, to whether they had experienced traumatic
climbing events, or where they were situated in the life course. For some,
trusting another male climbing partner, sometimes literally, with their life,
entailed that taken for granted aspects of masculinity had to be rethought, or
re-imagined after a sporting crisis, or having had experienced moments of
intense vulnerability, or deep emotion at the loss of a friend in a climbing
accident. In contrast, some older climbers were able to reflect thoughtfully
on how a male climbing identity is linked to status and bodily changes with
aging, as this man in his 60s did:
So, I was not like people who were simply in it because of the status of
being able to climb very hard. And a lot of those, when they weren’t able
to do it at the highest levels, dropped out and did other things. For me,
there was always a, a much wider context.
Using a framework of hegemonic masculinity, despite some of the critiques

of Connell’s (2005) concept, and seeing men (and therefore masculinities) in
transition and not as static (both across the life course, and across and within
separate spheres), meant that I was concerned to ‘get at’ fluid and multiple
(sporting) masculinities. To this end, and utilizing other work of mine (see
Hall et al., 2007), I was intent on looking at men ‘performing’ masculinity
across the domestic, paid work and sporting spheres, that is, seeing these
spheres as interrelated, where men exist in these different spaces, sometimes
simultaneously, and at different stages of the life course. Here, they nego-
tiated and re-negotiated their behaviour and different roles and identities
as climbers, workers, heterosexual partners, and parents, in effect, ‘doing’
masculinity differently at times, sometimes strategically, sometimes not. Bio-
graphical life changes such as being unemployed (at times, deliberately, to
practise a climbing career), finding a job and starting a new relationship, for
instance, were all things, which happened to some of the climbers in the
study. Therefore, I was concerned, as Connell (2005) articulates, to see how
masculinity can be open to both internal contradiction as well as historical
disruption.
The idea of masculinities in transition used in my original (2008) research
has since informed other sporting studies on masculinity. For example,
Thorpe (2011), in a study of snowboarding, details how for men taking
on more social responsibilities such as having children, getting married
and being in long-term employment change their everyday experiences
of the sport; some of them abandoning fratriarchal groups they had
formed, becoming more individualistic, more averse to risk-taking, with
snowboarding becoming a less central part of their lives than hitherto. Fur-
ther, she found that some of her participants now spent more time with
their female partners who were often encouraged to start snowboarding,
something that is complicated by whether they had defined themselves as
‘core’ boarders or non-core. Thorpe (2011, p. 185) argues, therefore, that
such life-course shifts in how the men participate in their chosen sport allow
them to be critically reflexive about certain elements of ‘the hypermascu-
line snowboarding habitus’ and she uses a gendered reading of Bourdieu’s
idea of habitus-field complex to illuminate ‘men’s multiple and dynamic
subjectivities, and potential for gender reflexivity’. Her data revealed that
these newly found adult responsibilities, employment, higher education and
transitions over the life course afforded some of the male boarders the capac-
ity to critically reflect on aspects of the sport such as reckless and abusive
behaviour in relation to risk-taking, pain and injury, and family/relationship
responsibilities/priorities, homophobia and sexism, for instance. In this way,
the conflicts experienced by some participants over these different ‘ways of
being’, at times allowed them to question, for example, the ‘naturalness’ of
the gender order.
Methodologically, this then raises issues around how we get to the diverse,
embodied experiences of men as they travel across and between these dif-
ferent sites in a range of extreme sports. This was partly addressed by my
observing participants at parties or in other social settings such as pubs,
or climbing and mountaineering events and conferences as well as having
been climbing, in the past, with some of the interviewees. In addition, my
insider access to some of the male climbers as acquaintances, or as friends
of climbers I knew well, or even sometimes as my friends, including those
I defined as elite and non-elite, allowed me access to their lives in the private
sphere. Therefore, I could observe them in their heterosexual relationships
as I was friends with some of their (climbing and non-climbing) female
partners. I occasionally had meals with some of the male climbers, some-
times with their heterosexual partners present. This was useful to be able to
see how sporting identities are also created by men’s roles in the domestic
sphere and to see how their climbing identities informed, for example, their
topics of conversation in their everyday lives, where dinner party conver-
sations revolved, often, around their climbing exploits, or illuminated how
non-climbing female partners would sometimes be resentful of ‘losing’ their
male climbing partners to the sport on weekends, when they expected their
dual leisure time to be spent more with each other. It was also helpful in
facilitating my being able to observe men’s embodied practices, which an
interview itself may not always fully illuminate, given, as Bourdieu (1977)
points out, that much of practice is not carried out consciously (although
follow-up interviews with some of these climbers allowed me to probe more
deeply around certain aspects I had noticed in these earlier observations).
In my work with male rock climbers, more specifically, it was the prob-
lematizing of the extreme and mundane everyday lives of my extreme
sporting participants, which allowed the separation of the sporting sphere
from other aspects of everyday life to be reflexively re-configured in some
of the climbers’ accounts. Utilizing the concept of ‘mundane extremities’
in my research, for example, allowed me to pose questions to the partici-
pants who made diverse aspects of the familiar strange, and the strange (or
extreme) familiar, in relation to their everyday lives. Therefore, participants
could reflect on their sporting, personal and work lives in new, and poten-
tially illuminating (or even liberating), ways. In other words, participants
were encouraged to be reflexive in ways, which meant that they not only
had to recollect and reflect on life-course changes such as how injury had
affected their aging bodies, or how becoming a father would affect the fre-
quency and type of their climbing practices, but they were encouraged to do
so from a new perspective. For instance, this occurred when being encour-
aged to consider impending fatherhood as a new and exciting adventure, in
a similar way that, in the past, climbing their next hard route had been con-
ceived. Or, by being able to reflect on how the extreme risk-taking aspects
of climbing, such as climbing beyond one’s limits, had begun to, at least
partially, lose some of their attraction as the climbing practices and related
emotions had become commonplace, even boring.
As well, the decision to have women in the sample, including those who
climbed, but also the non-climbing partners/friends of the male participants,
meant that they were able to give a different perspective or alternative nar-
rative regarding men’s behaviour and reflections. These were sometimes a
correction of the men’s accounts, and sometimes an alternative view of how
men ‘do’ masculinity differently, between and within the different spheres,
and across the different stages of the life course. The women’s voices also
at times challenged any automatic assumption that increased reflexivity by
the male climbers necessarily entailed a meaningful change in identity or in
established and often ingrained and embodied practices. For instance, this
female non-climbing partner of an elite male climber, in her 30s, observes
that male climbers are ‘ . . . quite accepting of women who climb. But there’s
still an attitude towards them. I think particularly when they have a family,
or relationships, for the climbing’s kind of up here and the relationship’s
down there.’
Thus, Thorpe (2011, p. 188) also deliberates on the idea that ‘the pres-
ence of reflexivity does not automatically translate into masculine identity
transformation’ (or, I would add, necessarily challenge male power), given
that though we may gain recognition through such changes, we are not
always able to act on this knowledge. In addition, as men leave the sporting
sphere for different reasons, and enter new fields, in the process gaining dif-
ferent roles and identities, there is no guarantee that, for example, traditional
gender roles and relations will not be pre-existing there. As I concluded in
Robinson (2008), and in agreement with Woodward (2002), routine and pre-
emptive masculinities combine in (and across) different sites, which allow
male identities to be, at times, re-drawn, albeit in contradictory and ambigu-
ous ways. But, given that some aspects of (male) climbing culture have not
changed in the years since I did the research (see Robinson, 2013), a mate-
rialist feminist emphasis on male domination, along with a critical study of
men and masculinities perspective can remind us that many men still do not
have a vested interest in giving up (sporting) power. Moreover, though men
being reflexive on their sporting identity can be indicative of a real need
to transform their personal and sporting lives, such reflection can also be
strategic, or inauthentic, in effect.
Reflections on the insider/outsider problematic
Wheaton (2013) has carried out work on race in the windsurfing commu-
nity, which has parallels with my location in relationship to my climbing
research:
While mindful of this problematic, my approach here has been to adopt

a ‘critical epistemological standpoint’ (Carrington 2007: 57) that shows
‘reflexivity about our positions in the various field of study’, that is to my
own location as a white, female, heterosexual, European, (marginal) surfer,
while recognizing that ‘many stratified positions of sameness and difference’
structure such qualitative research (Nayak, 2006: 413; Wheaton, 2013). How-
ever, since carrying out the initial research I have also been more mindful
of how the ‘moment’ of the interview with the climbers concerned con-
tributed, both to the data that was produced as well as any analysis after,
so that location needs to be considered in a number of different ways (see
Robinson, 2010).
Locating oneself in one’s own research does also demand a detailed con-
sideration of the insider/outsider status of the researcher. Though this was
an issue I was aware of when I carried out the original research, more
recent calls have been made to problematize further the insider/outsider
dichotomy in relation to a range of extreme sports, including windsurfing

and snowboarding. For example, Wheaton (2013) argues that these out-
sider/insider dynamics, and how they impact on the oft-essentialized and
misleading notion of researcher positionality, still need greater focus in
relation to extreme sport, as this is an under-theorized area.
One such issue is that an insider status gained from ethnographic partici-
pant observation can be seen to lead to an excess of empathy or subjectivism
(see, for example, Woodward, 2006). Such an observation caused me to ini-
tially reflect on my insider status to my study in certain ways. More generally,
for instance, insider status from being a climber over a number of years
certainly gave me access to the climbing culture due to my knowledge of
climbing terminology (such as complicated international grading systems),
the equipment needs of climbers, their training regimes, the use of insider
climbing slang and access to a range of climbers, including the elite or ‘core’
climbers, who otherwise might have been difficult to contact or persuade to
interview due to their climbing schedules, including competition climbing
abroad. I also had access to a number of climbing industry individuals and
organizations, for example, editors of climbing publications, national climb-
ing organizations and organizers of mountaineering and climbing literature
festivals.
In addition, my own, embodied climbing knowledge allowed me to inter-
pret the data, notably around aspects of interviewees’ emotional and bodily
experiences, in particular ways that may not have been available to the non-
climber. I did not subsequently claim that this necessarily gave me a more
authentic or privileged voice as a researcher. Indeed, my insider status was
viewed negatively by a particular section in the climbing community, as it
has been argued that this could have caused my analysis to be biased (as was
suggested on the climbing website UKC forum, 2005). I also argued that
the inter-connectedness of my whiteness, gender, class and heterosexual sta-
tus had as much purchase on my carrying out the research, in diverse ways
and situations, as did my insider status due to my climbing experiences and
insider knowledge.
Moreover, with hindsight, some years after the research had been carried
out, I can see that though in interviews I was honest in saying I was a lapsed
climber, I was also acutely aware that I felt some discomfort in this posi-
tion, and that this was dependent on whom I was interviewing at the time.
For example, with the elite climbers, the fact I no longer climbed at the
time was of no real consequence to them, given that I had climbed previ-
ously at a non-elite level (however, it is interesting to speculate if I had been
another elite male climber in the role of interviewer, what different interview
dynamics that could have created). Yet, when interviewing male and female
climbers who climbed at a level similar to me, I was more keen to make sure
respondents were aware of my past climbing history, so I was taken more
seriously and thus, my insider status was confirmed.
Further, as Thorpe (2011) notes, such insider status can be problematic,

particularly over the length of a research study if it develops over a number
of years, as mine did. She notes that gaining critical distance was a problem
for her work on snowboarders, due to insider positioning, and that it was
sometimes difficult to negotiate a path whereby she understood the com-
plexities of participants’ views and subjectivities, and gained distance with
which to critically examine her snowboarders’ actions and opinions. This
was something she was only able to gain by subsequently snowboarding less
and spending more time reflecting on the project itself.
With distance from my research, I can now see that the fact that I was fur-
ther away from the climbing scene than Thorpe (2011) initially was from the
snowboarding one, was in some ways an advantage, rather than a disadvan-
tage, given that I had both the insider knowledge and critical distance from
the start. However, the notion of critical distance (and an insider/outsider
position) can be conceived of, and problematized, in other ways than knowl-
edge or access to the field. And, therefore, in other ways my capacity for
distance was more clouded.
Thinking through such research issues again has, therefore, been useful to
allow me to reflect on the insider/outsider dichotomy anew. For example, as
well as my non-elite climbing background, age, gender and academic status
creating the dynamic with my differently positioned respondents them-
selves, my personal life and more specifically my heterosexual relationships
with men, were also relevant to a number of issues. This included, for exam-
ple, the research being conceived of in the first place as an aspect of my
taking up climbing within the context of my relationship with my son’s
father, which parallels the experience of many of the female and male par-
ticipants’ entry into or practices within the sport. (See Hockey et al.(2007) for
an investigation of heterosexuality which argues that the category extends
far beyond the sexual to encompass household roles, family and couple rela-
tionships and other aspects of the institution of heterosexuality.) In addition
to this, access to some of the participants and also their personal lives was, at
least partially, enabled by the contacts that another later, long-term partner
had. Furthermore, on reflection, some of the research priorities I established,
as well as analysis of the data, were also informed by this latter heterosexual
relationship for the duration of the research in ways I was not aware of at
the time.
Indeed, though I had not conceived of the ‘mundane extremities’ con-
ceptual framework for the study with any conception of my own personal
life in mind, looking back, I can see that this particular heterosexual rela-
tionship had, like many relationships over the duration, become somewhat
standardized and routine and what was once exhilarating and extraordinary
was now, in some ways at least, mundane.
It only became fully clear to me, at a conscious level – when the relation-
ship started to disintegrate – how much my former partner, whose masculine
identity was sutured into being a rock climber (so much so that his sense
of self, self-esteem and psychological stability depended on it), had prior-
itized his pursuit of climbing, for example, by climbing at the weekend,
when I would have preferred he spend time with me, or my son. Although
initially I had not conceptualized this as a problem, as it afforded both of
us autonomy within the relationship and my enjoyment of the space this
arrangement created for myself, over the life course, and with my greater
responsibilities of being a single parent in full-time employment, this situa-
tion became less acceptable. Thus, current reflection on this state of affairs
has made me aware of how much this had affected our relationship over
time, and, indeed, how any attempts to re-negotiate its parameters in the lat-
ter stages, revealed that this was a non-negotiable aspect of our relationship
on my (ex-)partner’s part.
With reflexive distance, I can now see how much I empathized with the
female partners of male climbers, in the research, who had faced a similar
situation. And, again, with the passing of time, I can see how my increasing
frustration with the relationship, alongside also eventually his, was symbol-
ized by my not wanting to discuss the research findings with him, despite
him having helped with access issues, for example. Thus, from being an
‘insider’, if tangentially, to the research early on, he became an ‘outsider’
to the work in its later stages, as I, unbeknown at the time, psychologi-
cally distanced myself from him by refusing to grant him further ‘insider’
status.
Thus, as I noted previously, such subjectivity can sometimes act to cloud
the researcher’s judgement in terms of over-empathizing with some respon-
dents over others. However, it can also, potentially at least, inform the
research in illuminating ways, in this instance, giving the researcher a way
of understanding some of the issues faced by those women who are in rela-
tionships with male climbers whose own masculine identity is dependent
on how often, and how well, they climb. Thus, this then engenders possibil-
ities for a more nuanced theorizing of intimacy, the emotions and gendered
heterosexual leisure. And, in my study, my own personal relationship and
the difficulties I was encountering within it, allowed me to recognize when
some of the male climbers were, indeed, attempting to ‘do’ masculinity dif-
ferently. This was also something a climber in his 20s acknowledged when
he said:
I mean fundamentally, climbing is a very selfish thing, you know, like

it’s you and your journey. But, within a relationship, that’s about under-
standing each other’s values and how they want to spend time, but also
giving up some of it.
Therefore, Shilling’s (2003, p. 75) observation that when doing fieldwork

he was ‘caught in a web of communication irrespective of individual
intentions’, which is utilized by Thorpe (2011) to illustrate how she could

not always manage her participants’ impressions of her performance, is of
relevance here to my own insider/outsider location. However, this applies
not just to fieldwork, but also, in my case, to the researcher’s own ‘tan-
gled web’, which is woven from her specific location in terms of age, class,
sexuality and so forth, but also from her own personal and emotional life.
Importantly, this may then be a resource in that it can both mirror and
subsequently inform any theorizing of what is going on in her respon-
dents’ (heterosexual) lives. In addition, the research itself can be a means
of reflection for the participants, albeit not unproblematically, as well as, if
unintentionally, providing an escape for the researcher from the rigours of a
heterosexual relationship experiencing difficulties.
References
Booth, R. (2011) Surfing: The Ultimate Guide, Greenwood Guides to Extreme Sports
(Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press).
Bourdieu, P. (1977) Outline of a Theory of Practice (Cambridge: Polity Press).
Carrington, B. (2007) ‘Merely Identity: Cultural Identity and the Politics of Sport’,
Sociology of Sport Journal, 24, 1, 49–66.
Collinson, D.L. and J. Hearn (eds) (1996) Men as Managers, Managers as Men: Critical
Perspectives on Men, Masculinities and Managements (London: Sage).
Connell, R.W. (2005) Masculinities, 2nd edn (Cambridge: Polity Press).
Gardiner, M.E. (2000) Critiques of Everyday Life (London: Routledge).
Hall, A., J. Hockey and V. Robinson (2007) ‘Occupational Cultures and the Embod-
iment of Masculinity: Hairdressing, Estate Agency and Firefighting’, Gender, Work
and Organization, 14, 534–551.
Heywood, I. (2006) ‘Climbing Monsters: Excess and Restraint in Contemporary Rock
Climbing’, Leisure Studies, 25, 455–467.
Highmore, B. (2002) Everyday Life and Cultural Theory (London: Routledge).
Hockey, J., A. Meah and V. Robinson (2007) Mundane Heterosexualities: From Theory to
Practices (London: Palgrave Macmillan).
Nayak, A. (2006) ‘After Race: Ethnography, Race and Post-Race Theory’, Ethnic and
Racial Studies, 29, 3, 411–430.
Robinson, V. (2003) ‘Everyday Heterosexualities and Everyday Masculinities:
The Mundane and the Extreme’, unpublished PhD dissertation, University of
Manchester.
Robinson, V. (2008) Everyday Masculinities and Extreme Sport: Male Identity and Rock
Climbing (Oxford: Berg).
Robinson, V. (2010) ‘Researching Everyday Sporting Masculinities: Thoughts from a
(Critical) Distance’, Journal of Gender Studies, 19, 309–313.
Robinson, V. (2013) Rock Climbing: The Ultimate Guide, Greenwood Guides to Extreme
Sports (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press).
Shilling, C. (2003) The Body and Social Theory, 2nd edn (London: Sage).
Thorpe, H. (2011) Snowboarding Bodies in Theory and Practice – Global Culture and Sport
Series (London: Palgrave Macmillan).
Thorpe, H. (2012) Snowboarding: The Ultimate Guide, Greenwood Guides to Extreme
Sports (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press).
Thorpe, H. and R. Rinehart (2010) ‘Alternative Sport and Affect: Non-representational

Theory Examined’, Sport in Society: Cultures, Commerce, Media, Politics, (Special Issue:
The Consumption and Representation of Lifestyle Sports), 13, 1268–1291.
UKC Forums (2005) UK Climbing.com ‘Topic – OU article on Male Climbers’, <www.
ukclimbing.com/forums/t.php?t= 121519&v=1> date accessed 18 March 2005.
Wheaton, B. (2010) ‘Introducing the Consumption and Representation of Lifestyle
Sports’, Sport in Society: Cultures, Commerce, Media, Politics (Special Issue: The
Consumption and Representation of Lifestyle Sports), 13, 1057–1081.
Wheaton, B. (2013) The Cultural Politics of Lifestyle Sport (Routledge: London).
Whitehead, S.M. (2002) Men and Masculinities (Cambridge: Polity).
Woodward, K. (2002) Understanding Identity (London: Arnold).
Woodward, K. (2006) Boxing, Masculinity and Identity: The ‘I’ of the Tiger (London:
Routledge).
11
Disability: Cripping Men,
Masculinities and Methodologies
Dan Goodley and Katherine Runswick-Cole
Introduction
Hegemonic constructions of masculinity constitute men as the quintessential

neoliberal citizen: able, autonomous, in control, independent and rational.
While masculinity studies have challenged such narrow expressions, disabil-
ity remains largely ignored. Too often, disability is viewed as undoing the
very processes associated with masculinity. To be disabled a man is to occupy
a bifurcated societal position. Nevertheless, recent developments in criti-
cal disability studies have drawn attention to the ways in which disability
expands identities beyond their usual negative constitution. In this chapter,
we will draw on a qualitative research project to explore the ways in which
disability crips1 masculinity research in affirmative and exciting ways. We see
our task as wheeling back from the doings of qualitative research in order to
expose the complexities and possibilities offered by disabled masculinities.
We suggest that disability extends critical masculinity studies’ possibilities
for such transgressive research encounters.
Critical disability studies: Cripping masculinity?
We welcome the opportunity offered by the editors of this text to write dis-
ability into men, masculinities and methodologies. Too often disability is
left out of research texts. Mallett (2007) observes that the triad of race, gen-
der and sexuality has found its way into cultural studies although disability
is often absent. Meanwhile, a number of disabled feminists have addressed
feminisms’ structural amnesia about the specifics of disabled women’s/men’s
oppression (Morris, 1996; Ghai, 2006). These absences led Olkin (2002) to
ask, will disabled people ever be allowed to board the diversity train? For-
tunately, recent developments have led writers and activists such as Marks
142
Dan Goodley and Katherine Runswick-Cole 143
(1999) and Thomas (2007) to argue that critical theory has matured as a
transdisciplinary space, in which the intersections of gender, class, disability,
age, race and nation are to be understood. Bringing together these different
markers of identity and politicizing them permits us to consider how each
might support and at times problematize the constitution of one another.
Following Goodley (2011, p. xi), critical disability studies is a broad area of
theory, research and practice that is antagonistic to the popular view that
disability equates with personal tragedy. While we may identify people as
having physical, sensory, cognitive or mental health impairments, critical
disability studies place the problems of disability in society. Critical disability
studies might be viewed as
a paradigm shift; from disability as personal predicament to disability as

social pathology. If we locate disability in the person then we maintain
a disabling status quo. In contrast, by viewing disability as a cultural and
political phenomenon, we ask serious questions about the social world.
(Goodley, 2011, p. xi)
The very idea of disability remains largely dormant in studies of men and
masculinity (Shakespeare, 1999). Hence, while there have been some (recent)
critical disability studies foray into this area of analysis – as we shall show
below – we are left wondering: what kinds of ableist assumptions might
underpin the research encounter with masculinity? The task of our chapter,
then, is to challenge some of these assumptions and centre disability in
relation to methodological approaches to the study of masculinities. Our
intervention is an epistemological one as we ask, how does an understand-
ing of disability disrupt, challenge or maybe reaffirm some of the tacit and
taken-for-granted ideas of doing masculinity research? To appropriate ques-
tions from Harding’s (1993) classic paper: how can masculinity researchers
create methodologies for disabled men and develop theory that is grounded
in the knowledge and theories of disabled men while also sensitive to the
workings of heterosexism?
Furthermore, armed with albeit a limited knowledge of some of the aspira-
tions and experiences of disabled men shared in this chapter, how do critical
disability studies impact on the ethics, methods, analytical findings and the-
oretical resources that are drawn upon in studies of men, masculinities and
methodologies? We seek to address these questions through reference to
stories of disabled men taken from a recent research project, and via the
insights from critical disability studies literature that have the potential to
challenge – to crip – masculinity research.
We follow Shakespeare’s (1999, p. 59) stance that ‘it is necessary to decon-
struct and decode masculinities, including disabled versions’ and agree
with him that ‘non-disabled men have things to learn from disabled men,
and could profitably share insights into gender relations, sexuality and
144 Disability
particularly issues of physicality and the body’ (Shakespeare, 1999, p. 60).

Moreover, in attempting to address the lack of engagement between mas-
culinity and disability we are drawn to the accounts of disabled feminists2
who have also sought to address being ‘shut up and shut out’ of the feminist
mainstream (Quinlan et al., 2008) while tackling incidents of ‘gender-blind’
critical disability studies.
A qualitative study
‘Exploring resilience in the lives of disabled people’ is a collaborative

project developed in partnership between the disability charity SCOPE and
Manchester Metropolitan University (http://disability-resilience.posterous.
com/). Part of the project involved a life-story phase. We spoke to 42
participants aged between 5 and 82, recruited through the north-west
region of England, all self-identified as disabled people. This included a
range of impairment labels: physical impairments, learning disabilities, life-
limiting/threatening impairments, mental health service users and people
who use assisted and alternative forms of communication. Narrators were
interviewed at a time and location of their choosing, including work, pubs
and cafés. Some were interviewed via telephone if they preferred. One nar-
rator chose to be interviewed via email, as this suited her communication
style. In this chapter, we draw on the accounts of five disabled men and
one father of a disabled child. We include the father in this study because,
following McLaughlin et al. (2008), many of the issues faced by disabled chil-
dren will directly impinge upon families in ways that make them disabled
families.
Pen portraits of narrators

Mike is 19, living with his parents, a college student and describes
himself as having cerebral palsy.
David is 23, has cerebral palsy and is a recent graduate, currently
living at home but about to move into independent living.
Jack is in his mid-30s, has a degenerative neurological impairment
and lives alone. He was recently made redundant from his job at a
local newspaper and is currently studying for his PhD.
Chris is in his mid-40s, has a degenerative neurological impairment,
is married to Cate and father to Summer and Beth. A former nurse,
he works with people with the label of learning disability.
George is in his early 40s, a self-employed father to 13-year-old
Diane who has the label of cerebral palsy and Kelly who is 15. He is
divorced from Diane’s mother but plays an active part in his daugh-
ter’s life.
Geoff is in his early 50s, has a physical impairment and is an

amputee. He lives with his wife and works with people with the
label of learning disability.
Qualitative research, narrative inquiry and disability studies have long histo-
ries of association (Langness and Levine, 1986; Ferguson et al., 1992; Banister
et al., 2011). One reason for this interconnection relates to the novel ideas,
unexpected findings and change of perspectives offered by ceding power in
the research venture to the expertise of narrators and storytellers. Likewise,
through listening to the tales of our narrators – and contextualizing these
accounts in relation to the wider critical disability studies literature – we have
been forced to think more carefully about the intersections of masculinity
and disability: raising a number of key questions.
Questions for research(ers)
It is worth reiterating our appropriation of Harding’s (1993) methodologi-

cal and epistemological questions: how can masculinity researchers create
research that is for disabled men, and develop theory that is grounded in the
knowledge and theories of disabled men, while sensitized to the processes
of heterosexism? With these aims in mind, we pose a number of important
methodological, analytical and epistemological questions about masculin-
ity/disability that, if addressed, may move men, masculinities and research
towards an enabling rather than disabling space.
Whose research project is this anyway?

Who should run disability research? Barnes (1995) contends that researchers
must work with disabled people and their representative organizations in
participatory ways to develop emancipatory research with and for disabled
people. In contrast, Shakespeare (1997) and Danieli and Woodhams (2005)
suggest that while researchers should remain accountable to the aspirations
of disabled people, less participatory and more researcher-led methodolo-
gies can be equally productive in terms of developing emancipatory theory.
For our purposes of this chapter, we adopt the second position through
exploring the emancipatory potential of the stories of disabled men. We do,
though, acknowledge the importance of more action-based research in
which disabled people drive research agendas.
Do you have to be disabled to carry out disability research? In addressing
this question, one of us identifies a number of responses (Goodley, 2011,
p. 25). First, the John Lennon response3 ; you have as much right to speak
about critical disability studies as any other member of the human race.
Disablism should be a concern shared by all. Second, the postmodern response;
you might choose not to self-disclose a disabled identity because (a) you’re
146 Disability
not disabled; (b) it’s none of anyone else’s business; (c) you don’t accept the
unitary, atomistic concept of ‘dis/abled’; or (d) you don’t think it’s important
to be disabled to speak of disability. Third, the partisan response; you think it
is more important to articulate an alliance with the aims of the disabled
people’s movement than to self-identify as disabled. Intent might be more
powerful than identity.
Are we researching impairment, disablism or ableism?

Critical disability studies asks us to research the conditions of disablism,
which is ‘a form of social oppression involving the social imposition of
restrictions of activity on people with impairments and the socially engen-
dered undermining of their psycho-emotional well-being’ (Thomas, 2007,
p. 73). In the 1990s, Gerry Zarb and colleagues in Britain aimed to gather
statistical measurements on key indicators (such as regional employment,
independent living, use of transport) to assess the extent to which disabled
people were (not) marginalized (Arthur and Zarb, 1995a, 1995b; Salvage and
Zarb, 1995; Begum and Zarb, 1996). They devised and implemented national
and local questionnaires with the hope of assessing disabled people’s ratings
of their experiences of these key indicators. Reflecting on the project, Barnes
(1995, p. 8) observed that while ‘certain aspects of the obstacles to disabled
people’s participation may be amenable to measurement, physical access, for
example, there are other issues which are not; namely, prejudice’. Discrimi-
nation and prejudice are elusive elements of disablism and better researched
through the use of qualitative methodologies. However, as Goodley (2011,
p. 25) puts it ‘behind any question of method is the question of priority:
either to assess the social conditions of disablism or measure the impacts of
impairment’.
The 1984 British Government commissioned OPCS (Office of Population
Censuses and Surveys) surveys of disabled adults and children in private
households and communal establishments (Martin et al., 1988; Martin and
White, 1988). The surveys had the potential to give a major overview of the
contemporary position of disabled people. However, as Oliver (1990) and
Abberley (1987) argued, the survey questions were framed in very individ-
ualistic ways. They pull out a number of examples from the surveys and
give alternative questions based upon a more social approach to the study
of disablism:
OPCS: ‘Can you tell me what is wrong with you?’

Alternative: ‘Can you tell me what is wrong with society?’
OPCS: ‘Does your health problem/disability prevent you from going out
as often or as far as you would like?’
Alternative: ‘What is it about the local environment that makes it difficult
for you to get about in your neighborhood?’
OPCS: ‘Have you attended a special school because of a long-term health

problem or disability?’
Alternative: ‘Have you attended a special school because of your edu-
cational authority’s policy of sending people with your health prob-
lem/disability to such places?’
(see Goodley, 2011, p. 25 for discussion).
Critical disability studies opposes a causal relation between impairment

(what a body or mind cannot do) and disability (a political category often
marked by the conditions of disablism), instead seeking a more considered
understanding of the conditions and experiences of disablism. Roussel and
Downs (2007, p. 184) suggest similar developments have occurred in men’s
studies with the concept of masculinity playing a central role in theorizing
gender relations and practices at the intersections of the ‘natural body and
the apparatus of power/knowledge’. Researching disability, men and mas-
culinity therefore requires us to contextualize these intersecting identities in
a contemporary context of disablism. This is not to say that impairment is
not important. Clearly, impairments are important because some are static,
others episodic, some degenerative and others terminal – impairment is a
predicament and can be tragic (Shakespeare, 2006, p. 54). However, the expe-
rience of impairment specifically and one’s body and mind more generally
takes place in a culture of disablism, which relies heavily on an ideology of
ableism. Hence, while impairment might be a predicament, it is experienced
as such in a society where ableist processes create a corporeal standard, which
presumes able-bodiedness. Internalized ableism means that to emulate the
norm, the disabled individual is required to embrace, indeed to assume, an
‘identity’ other than their own (Campbell, 2009, p. 21).
Simultaneously, then, our research methodologies must be sensitized to
the ways in which disabled people challenge the ethics of ableism: an
ideological position in which compulsory forms of able-bodiedness and het-
erosexuality are intertwined (McRuer, 2006). There are clear links here with
the notions of compulsory masculinity (see Harris, 1998) and hegemonic
masculinity (Connell, 1995). Indeed, Shakespeare (1999, pp. 58–89) accepts
this point when he argues ‘masculinity as an ideological and psycho-
logical process is connected to prejudice against disabled people in gen-
eral . . . masculine ideology rests on a negation of vulnerability, weakness,
and ultimately the body itself’. Masculinist discourses are also ableist. For-
tunately, as we shall see, these discourses are bound to fail: the able-bodied,
masculine, heterosexual ideal identity can never be fully realized.
Are we tuned into the complex processes of disablism and ableism?

In Tepper’s (1999, p. 45) brave account of disability and masculinity he
writes, ‘If it is impossible for an able-bodied man to meet the fantasy model
of sex, a man with a disability faces an even more devastating task to live
148 Disability
up to the ideal male model.’ Narrative inquiry has the potential to pick up
on these nuanced and problematic dealings with ableist norms and disabled
reactions:
I am six foot three, I used to box, I was a rugby player. I still am a

fit and physical guy but if I can get guys in their late teens and early
twenties pointing at me at four o’clock in the afternoon what about every-
body else? There have been numerous occasions when I’ve been verbally
ridiculed by adult men, I’ve been pushed over. I am aware of it every time
I go out – people talk about the fear of going out and for people who are
less physically able, they can’t withstand that kind of abuse (Geoff).
Being a disabled is at odds with hegemonic ideas around ‘real men’ enjoying
power and privilege (Shakespeare et al., 1996). However, these contradictions
can only be understood in a culture of disablism: ‘a form of social oppres-
sion involving the social imposition of restrictions of activity on people
with impairments and the socially engendered undermining of their psycho-
emotional well-being’ (Thomas, 2007, p. 73). Such undermining experiences
were related by Jack:
I think some people are genuinely nice and some people like to make a
big show of it, like ‘Hey everyone I’m helping this disabled person, look
at me!’ That really drives me mad, when people are being completely,
‘Hey I’m helping!’ That’s when I do lose my temper, although I do try
to give people chances. At Tesco up the road, the Big Issue seller was like
that. He’d actually say things to other shoppers like: ‘I really like helping
disabled people’ – that was really condescending for me. I doubt if he’d
liked it if I’d bought one of his magazines off him then started telling
people going past that I really like helping homeless people.
Disablism is not simply about the material barriers that deny people
with impairment access to education, work and communities. In addition,
disablism is felt psycho-emotionally: it gets under the skin and is found in
the subtle relationships with and reactions of others (Reeve, 2002, 2008). Just
as disabled feminists have alerted us to the ways in which the private is made
public, disabled men also often experience ‘the unwanted attentions, intru-
sions and stares with which non-disabled women are familiar’ (Shakespeare,
1999, p. 62). As Odette (1999, p. 95) succinctly puts it, ‘perceptions of others
have their effect on me. As I go about my life, my public self has much
work to do’. Research methodologies on men, disability and masculinity
must follow the move in both disability and men’s studies to address an
over-reliance on analyses of public life, marketplace and domination of the
body as a machine and turn to considerations of the personal and political
too (Roussel and Downs, 2007, p. 185).
Are we attending to embodied narratives?

Masculinity studies have long recognized the centrality of the body
(Connell, 1995). Disability research methodologies have also attended to
embodiment. For Shildrick and Price (1999, p. 1), an impaired body calls into
question the ‘given-ness’ of the ‘natural body’ by demonstrating the ways
in which dis/abled bodies are shot through and invested with meanings.
We have found that open-ended and narrative approaches to interviewing –
which emphasize the narrators’ expertise on their lives and power of
telling stories – provide powerful encounters that elicit the complexities of
embodiment.
What wears me down is the physical effort of getting out of bed and
going to work. The feeling of helplessness when I see my wife carrying
the heavy shopping bags – it is all the day-to-day activities that people
don’t consider (Geoff).
Not having a very visible disability is quite interesting . . . For instance,
sometimes I have people saying things like ‘oh you know, you are a big
strong guy, you can do this’ and that’s difficult because part of me wants
to be that big strong guy and move the chair and carry the thing over
there . . . I’m still struggling with some of those elements of thinking and
I want to be a very able person with a disability (Chris).
I remember being told, one of the early visits when I went to hospital
by the doctor saying ‘well you are never going to be able to play foot-
ball or you are never going to be able to drive a car and you are never
going to be able to do this’ and there was all these things he was saying
I couldn’t do. And I do drive a car now and I don’t play football because
I’m not particularly interested in it to be honest, but I have a family and
I function (Chris).
While the standards of hegemonic masculinity may be unreachable, dis-

ability evokes the impossibility of ableist standards of embodiment. Sparkes
and Smith’s (2002) and Smith and Sparkes’ (2005) narrative inquiry work
with young men who have acquired spinal cord injuries (SCI) also evidences
some complex identity renegotiations. On becoming SCI, men spoke of los-
ing old ‘boys’ friendships and the double-bind of fighting to become ‘whole’
with ‘incomplete bodies’. While this could bring feelings of depression men
spoke also of finding disability politics. For some, the solitary masculine
relationships that they had prior to SCI had been replaced with more mutu-
ally inclusive and interdependent ones. Their ‘new’ bodies had prompted
revision (Goodley, 2011, p. 56). As we shall see below, a disabled body may
well provide new ways of thinking of and with the body that challenge
hegemonic/ableist notions of masculinity. One could argue that narrative
150 Disability
methods have the potential for reflecting and revisioning one’s life through
the very processes of storytelling.
Do we recognize and celebrate experimentations with masculinity?

Shakespeare (1999, p. 57) observes that ‘the lives of real disabled men,
involving negotiation and redefinition and continuity as well as change,
offer a more complex and sophisticated reality than assumptions may
imply’. Research methodologies should resist importing dominant mascu-
line assumptions and narrative inquiry might help this resistance. As Tepper
(1999, p. 40) describes in his tale of ‘doing sexuality’ as a newly dis-
abled man:
Along the way I did a lot of experimentation, at times hurting others’ feel-
ings and getting my own feelings hurt too. I sought out every opportunity
to express my sexuality and have it affirmed.
Tepper appears to make sense of himself, and others, through the competing
discourses, attitudes and practices that surround disability, masculinity and
sexuality. A similar perspective was offered by David:
The crutches and the disability shouldn’t define me. I am a person with
my own interests and it just so happens I use crutches to get around. Some
people are scared of that, I’ve done some sort of on line dating, I don’t
stick that I’m disabled on my profile . . . you’ve got to risk things to get the
reward of having the relationship.
The presence of disability may elicit moments of unexpected expansion for

disabled parents, as in the case of George being pushed to expand his role as
father to researcher and advocate:
We start going through this cycle of hospital appointments and you

almost think I wish I had looked that up on the internet rather than have
a day off work and Diane miss a day out of school (George).
Indeed, having a disabled child may accentuate further experimentation

with the ‘new men’ identities (Shakespeare, 1999): taking on roles and
responsibilities previously not anticipated. Celebrating these moments of
experimentation demands research projects and methodologies to have the
time, scope and funding for these moments to emerge. Indeed, while our
research funders and partners (SCOPE) have provided patient support and
encouragement to our use of qualitative methods, too often research is
stifled by quick fix aims and objectives that might miss experimental events
and accounts. To paraphrase Garland Thomson (2005), research must have
the time to retrieve those moments and events that say something about
disability and masculinity.
Do we celebrate transgressive narratives?

Killacky (2004, p. 62) proclaims that ‘disability has given me real oppor-
tunities for wisdom. My connectivity to the world is deepening as I expe-
rience dependence on others’. The disabled body might be researched not
as a deficit but as a productive resource marking moments of intercon-
nection, production and leakage (Hickey-Moody, 2009, p. 75). Disabled
bodies expand and envelop in exciting ways; shifting or deconstructing
how we might understand notions of masculinity. For Wilkerson (2002,
p. 34), disabled bodies are queer bodies because they exist as vital sites
of pleasure, interpersonal connection and acceptance. She notes that
so-called hard-wired (but actually heteronormatively constituted) mascu-
line bodies can be queered (re-wired) by the experience of disability.
Narrative inquiry can capture these times of transgressing masculinist
notions:
Sometimes because I use a wheelchair if I’m going round shops people do

ask, but they ask in a way that’s good. There was one old lady one time
and she said, ‘Look, I’m not interfering but do you need any help?’ and
I said ‘thanks for asking. I’m ok I can manage,’ and she said ‘oh great.’
I haven’t really had any negative reactions from people (David).
Killacky (2004, p. 57) shares David’s view that disability has broadened
his outlook when he acknowledges being ‘someone who was quite phallo-
centric, I have been forced to reorient my sexuality’. Both Tepper (1999)
and Liddiard (2012) have attended to the ways in which, for some dis-
abled men, personal assistants have been called on to lend a hand in
terms of masturbation and sexual activities with partners and sex work-
ers. The involvement of the latter group is particularly problematic and
vexed with a host of competing interests and political responses. David’s
story captures the ways in which disability is an opportunity or event for
rethinking traditional gender roles and relationalities. Similar opportuni-
ties emerged for George to rethink his career while parenting his disabled
daughter:
So there was lots of hospital visits, Diane had a shunt fitted because her
head was getting bigger. I used to go to the appointments if we were going
to find out something important. At the time, I worked for a small firm
and they were good at giving me the time off, but now I work for myself
and I don’t think I could have managed when Diane has had long spells
in hospital in subsequent years if I hadn’t been self-employed.
152 Disability
Are we sensitive to normative desires?

My first sexual question was whether I could still have children.
I was single at the time and had hardly thought about marriage, let
alone having children. I didn’t understand the complexity of that
question at the time, nor did my physician. The doctor told me my
chances of having children were less than 5%.
(Tepper, 1999, p. 39)
In these times of queer and crip methodological and analytical celebrations

it is important for masculinity researchers to attend to the ways in which
normative pleasures – still the remit of non-disabled men living in ableist
patriarchal times – are often denied to disabled men. In this sense, marriage,
monogamy and family are part of the aspirations of some disabled men.
I would like to have children but I often think my physical limitations

would get in the way and . . . I personally wouldn’t want carers to look
after my child because I want to raise my child myself, I would love to
have a non-disabled child because then I would be able to teach it how to
ride a bike, play sport, do things like that (Michael).
Disablism, ableism and desire can hugely influence one another:
If I meet somebody that I fancy it’s horrifying. There was someone

recently and I kept noticing her, and every time she went past, I’d sort
of really obviously stare at her and she started giving me dirty looks back.
In the end I plucked up courage to speak to her to break the ice, so we
say hello to each other now . . . I think being disabled it’s hard to actually
break the ice like that and start a conversation (Jack).
Indeed, separation from his wife threatened to deny George opportunities

for adequately caring for his daughter:
I do feel that I want to be involved even though Diane’s mum and I aren’t
together anymore . . . Just because I don’t live with Diane all the time
I don’t want to lose my say in how things are done . . . We can’t take her
hoist everywhere we go. It is difficult trying to take her to the toilet or
getting her in and out of my car. Now my partner and I live separately,
my partner has got Diane’s adapted vehicle but I am managing with a
normal car (George).
Liddiard (2012) reminds us that while the disabled body may crip and
queer traditional understandings of masculinity, when disabled men have
been denied access to normative experiences of friendships, relationships
and sexuality, it is hardly surprising that they may express desires for these
things. Methodologies of disability and masculinity should be sensitized to

both mainstream and queer desires.
Conclusion
I was not born into disability secure in my manhood or comfortable

breaking out of stereotypical male roles. What it meant to be a real
man was deeply ingrained in me by the time I was 20. Fortunately,
after many years of work, I am relatively free of socially imposed
concepts of male sexuality and masculinity. Even at this juncture in
my life, however, I sometimes wrestle with internalized notions of
male roles as I prepare to stay home with our baby when my wife
goes back to work.
(Tepper, 1999, p. 41)
For Roussel and Downs (2007), a coherent concept of masculinity is a prob-

lematic notion particularly when one recognizes that a similar coherence
related to femininity has, by and large, been rejected by feminists. In one
sense, the propensity to explain all men’s experiences in relation to such
a concept stretches its meaning to the point of uselessness (Roussel and
Downs, 2007, p. 179). One could argue that the introduction of disability
further troubles the notion of masculinity. In this chapter, we have aimed to
foreground disability in considerations of epistemology, methodology and
analysis. Too often, disability remains sidelined by transformative arenas of
theory and research. This can no longer be the case in these crip times of
disability research praxis.
Notes
1. By ‘cripping’ we are referring to the ways in which disability fundamentally
challenges, questions and unveils the processes associated with the ideals of
heternormativity, ableism, patriarchy and hegemonic masculinity (see McRuer,
2006).
2. See, for example, Garland Thomson (2005), Ghai (2006), Morris (1991, 1996),
Thomas (1999, 2007) and Wendell (1996).
3. Goodley (2011) uses this in honour of the great man’s response to a journalist’s
question during the ‘Bed-in protest’ in Amsterdam March 1969, when asked what
‘right he had’ to make such a demonstration.
References
Abberley, P. (1987) ‘The Concept of Oppression and the Development of a Social
Theory of Disability’, Disability, Handicap and Society, 2, 5–19.
Arthur, S. and G. Zarb (1995a) ‘Measuring Disablement in Society: Working Paper 3’,
Disabled People and the Citizen’s Charter, http://www.leeds.ac.uk/disability-studies/
archiveuk/Zarb/meas%20work%20paper%203.pdf, date accessed 1 May 2009.
154 Disability
Arthur, S. and G. Zarb (1995b) ‘Measuring Disablement in Society: Working Paper 4’,
Barriers to Employment for Disabled People, http://www.leeds.ac.uk/disability-studies/
archiveuk/Zarb/barriers%20to%20employment.pdf, date accessed 1 May 2009.
Banister, P., G. Bunn, E. Burman, J. Daniels, P. Duckett, D. Goodley, R. Lawthom,
I. Parker, K. Runswick-Cole, J. Sixsmith, S. Smailes, C. Tindall and P. Whelan (2011)
Qualitative Methods in Psychology: A Research Guide, 2nd edn (London: McGraw
Hill).
Barnes, C. (1995) ‘Measuring Disablement in Society: Hopes and Reserva-
tions’, Disability Research Unit, School of Sociology and Social Policy,
University of Leeds, http://www.leeds.ac.uk/disabilitystudies/archiveuk/Barnes/
measuring%20dis.pdf, date accessed 1 May 2009.
Begum, N. and G. Zarb (1996) ‘Measuring Disablement in Society: Working Paper 5’,
Measuring Disabled People’s Involvement in Local Planning, http://www.leeds.ac.uk/
disability-studies/archiveuk/Begum/local%20planning.pdf, date accessed 25 April
2009.
Campbell, F.K. (2009) Contours of Ableism: Territories, Objects, Disability and Desire
(London: Palgrave Macmillan).
Connell, R.W. (1995) Masculinities (Cambridge: Polity).
Danieli, A. and C. Woodhams (2005) ‘Emancipatory Research Methodology and Dis-
ability: A Critique’, International Journal of Social Research Methodology: Theory and
Practice, 8, 281–296.
Ferguson, P.M., D.L. Ferguson and S.J. Taylor (eds) (1992) Interpreting Disability:
A Qualitative Reader (New York: Teachers College Press).
Garland Thomson, R. (2005) ‘Feminist Disability Studies’, Signs: Journal of Women in
Culture and Society, 30, 1557–1587.
Ghai, A. (2006) (Dis)embodied Form: Issues of Disabled Women (Delhi: Shakti Books).
Goodley, D. (2011) Critical Disability Studies: An Interdisciplinary Introduction (London:
Sage).
Harding, S. (1993) ‘Rethinking Standpoint Epistemology: What is “Strong Objectiv-
ity?” ’ in L. Alcoff and E. Potter (eds) Feminist Epistemologies (London: Routledge).
Harris, Greg (1998) ‘Compulsory Masculinity, Britain, and the Great War: The
Literary-Historical Work of Pat Barker’, Critique: Studies in Contemporary Fiction, 39,
290–304.
Hickey-Moody, A. (2009) Unimaginable Bodies: Intellectual Disability, Performance and
Becomings (Rotterdam: Sense Publishers).
Killacky, J.R. (2004) ‘Careening toward Kensho: Ruminations on Disability and Com-
munity’ in B. Guter and J. Killacky (eds) Queer Crips: Disabled Gay Men and Their
Stories (New York: Haworth Press).
Langness, L.L., and H.G. Levine (eds) (1986) Culture and Retardation (Kluwer: D. Reidel
Publishing Company).
Liddiard, K. (2012) ‘(S)Exploring Disability’, unpublished PhD dissertation, University
of Warwick.
Mallett, R. (2007) ‘Critical Correctness: Exploring the Capacities of Contemporary
Disability Criticism’, unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Sheffield.
Marks, D. (1999) Disability: Controversial Debates and Psychosocial Perspectives (London:
Routledge).
Martin, J., H. Meltzer and D. Elliott (1988) Report 1: The Prevalence of Disability Among
Adults (London: HMSO).
Martin, J. and A. White (1988) Report 2: The Financial Circumstances of Disabled Adults
in Private Households (London: HMSO).
McLaughlin, J., D. Goodley, E. Clavering, and P. Fisher (2008) Families Raising Disabled
Children: Enabling Care and Social Justice (London: Palgrave).
McRuer, R. (2006) ‘Compulsory Able-Bodiedness and Queer/Disabled Existence’
in L. Davis (ed.) The Critical Disability Studies Reader, 2nd edn (New York:
Routledge).
Morris, J. (1991) Pride Against Prejudice: Transforming Attitudes to Disability (London:
The Women’s Press).
Morris, J. (ed.) (1996) Encounters with Strangers: Feminism and Disability (London: The
Women’s Press).
Odette, C. (1999) ‘Consumer Perspective: Butchdom and Disability’, Sexuality and
Disability, 17, 93–96.
Oliver, M. (1990) The Politics of Disablement (Basingstoke: Macmillan).
Olkin, R. (2002) ‘Could You Hold the Door for Me? Including Disability in Diversity’,
Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority Psychology, 8, 130–137.
Quinlan, K., L. Bowleg and S. Faye Ritz (2008) ‘Virtually Invisible Women: Women
with Disabilities in Mainstream Psychological Theory and Research’, Review of
Disability Studies, 4, 4–17.
Reeve, D. (2002) ‘Negotiating Psycho-Emotional Dimensions of Disability
and Their Influence on Identity Constructions’, Disability and Society, 17,
493–508.
Reeve, D. (2008) ‘Negotiating Disability in Everyday Life: The Experience
of Psycho-Emotional Disablism’, unpublished PhD dissertation, Lancaster
University.
Roussel, J.F. and C. Downs (2007) ‘Epistemological Perspectives on Concepts of Gender
and Masculinity/Masculinities’, The Journal of Men’s Studies, 15, 178–196.
Salvage, A. and G. Zarb (1995) ‘Measuring Disablement in Society: Gaining
Access’, Disabled People and the Physical Environment, http://www.leeds.ac.
uk/disabilitystudies/archiveuk/Salvage/meas%20work%20paper%202.pdf, date
accessed 30 April 2009.
Shakespeare, T. (1997) ‘Rules of Engagement: Changing Disability Research’ in
L. Barton and M. Oliver (eds) Disability Studies: Past Present and Future (Leeds: The
Disability Press).
Shakespeare, T. (1999) ‘The Sexual Politics of Disabled Masculinity’, Sexuality and
Disability, 17, 53–64.
Shakespeare, T. (2006) Disability Rights and Wrongs (London: Routledge).
Shakespeare, T., K. Gillespie-Sells and D. Davies (1996) The Sexual Politics of Disability
(London: Cassells).
Shildrick, M. and J. Price (1999) ‘Openings on the Body: A Critical Introduction’ in
J. Price and M. Shildrick (eds) Feminist Theory and the Body (Edinburgh: Edinburgh
University Press).
Smith, B. and A.C. Sparkes (2005) ‘Men, Sport, Spinal Cord Injury and Narratives of
Hope’, Social Science and Medicine, 61, 1095–1105.
Sparkes, A.C. and B. Smith (2002) ‘Sport, Spinal Cord Injuries, Embodied
Masculinities, and Narrative Identity Dilemmas’, Men and Masculinities, 4,
258–285.
Tepper, M.S. (1999) ‘Letting Go of Restrictive Notions of Manhood: Male Sexuality,
Disability and Chronic Illness’, Sexuality and Disability, 17, 37–52.
Thomas, C. (1999) Female Forms: Experiencing and Understanding Disability
(Buckingham: The Open University Press).
156 Disability
Thomas, C. (2007) Sociologies of Disability, ‘Impairment’, and Chronic Illness: Ideas in

Critical Disability Studies and Medical Sociology (London: Palgrave).
Wendell, S. (1996) The Rejected Body: Feminist Philosophical Reflections on Disability
Wilkerson, A. (2002) ‘Disability, Sex Radicalism and Political Agency’, NWSA Journal,
14, 33–57.
12
Peering Upwards: Researching
Ruling-Class Men
Mike Donaldson and Scott Poynting
Introduction
We begin this chapter by reflecting on the ‘why’ of researching ruling-class

men, before turning in the body of the chapter to the ‘how’. We will then
summarize some findings that we have arrived at by the methods discussed,
and conclude the chapter with some lessons and limitations of our efforts
to date in researching ruling-class men and some pointers towards future
research on ruling-class masculinity.
It is almost a truism that much of the ownership and control of the world’s
wealth, resources and human capacity, and the power that is attached to
this, belongs to men (Connell, 1987).1 In fact, this wealth and power is con-
centrated in the hands of a small fraction of men, whom we can identify,
in a manner that had until recently become unfashionable in sociological
circles, as the leading echelon of the ruling class (though of course some
ruling-class women have a share as well). In focusing our study on the very
wealthiest and most powerful of men (perhaps the richest 2–5 per cent) who
are unambiguously and incontestably ruling class, we aimed to avoid tedious
‘boundary’ questions of who belongs to which class, in which so much soci-
ology of stratification and mobility had bogged itself down. The fact that
there are shades of grey in the social world does not mean that everything
is grey (Donaldson, 1991, p. 3). Rather than seeing classes merely as analyt-
ical categories, we wish to deepen the historical materialist understanding
of classes as social relationships. This, furthermore, allows us to grasp how
gender relations are actually constitutive of class relations; they are not sep-
arate spheres of people’s lives. By examining the lives of those men in whose
interest the class system operates, we are looking for insights into how –
and how consciously – they exercise control over the system and its main-
tenance. It is a fair bet that the way they live their manhood has a lot to
do with this – and with the fact that the vast majority of the 2–5 per cent
are men.
157
158 Peering Upwards: Researching Ruling-Class Men
Those who prematurely proclaimed the ‘death of class’ should by now

have been long since embarrassed to find that the ruling class was present,
smirking, at its own funeral. Who would now deny that the global financial
crisis was made by the class relations of contemporary capitalism, super-
charged by derivatives and the contradictions they entail? Or that the very
rich have continued profiting apace through this crisis, while the bill for
their profligacy is paid by the rest of us, through imposed austerity mea-
sures? Media clichés about testosterone-driven trading floors don’t help very
much, but it is a fact – and one to be comprehended by social science – that
most of the bankers trousering their obscene bonuses, amid the wreckage
they have wrought, are in fact blokes. The same applies to media moguls
among their respective wreckage; not to mention war profiteers.
Our book that preceded this latest reminder of the now global class system
and its inherent crises, Ruling Class Men (Donaldson and Poynting, 2007),
took the obviousness of capitalist class rule as a starting point, and asked,
what is it about these class relations that is structured by, and lived as, mas-
culinity? ‘Ruling the world’ is at the same time, and constitutively, a matter
of gender as well as class relations. This is an area still well worthy of study,
we would suggest. The mutual determinations of gendered class ‘rule’ can
most usefully be examined with a grasp of the concrete, rather than on
rarefied planes where class can, for a fashionable period, analytically melt
into air.
A second answer to why we want to study ruling-class masculinity lies on
our exasperation with some consequences of the tendency in social science
to ‘study down’ – consequences that Donaldson (2003, p. 156) has dubbed
‘sociology noir’.2 The focus on the masculinity of the least powerful men, so
often mischaracterized, because of this focus, as deviant – more physically
violent, more sexist, more racist and so on – has neglected both the everyday
coping of ordinary working-class masculinity (Donaldson, 1991) and also
the peculiarities of the masculinity of the hegemonic (Donaldson, 1993).
It is ‘no mean feat’, observed R. W. Connell (1983, p. 172), ‘to produce the
kind of people who can actually operate a capitalist system.’ These people
are overwhelmingly men, and it is worthwhile to pay sociological attention
to their production and reproduction and the significance, in this, of their
particular kind of masculinity.
The challenges of peering upwards
Our aim, then, in Ruling Class Men, was to focus on the lives of men of the
ruling class, both the everyday and over the life course, as described in their
own accounts and those of people close to them. The challenges faced in
such a study are huge. How can we hope to understand how life appears from
the point of view of these men, whose worlds are so different from our own,
and into which we would never be admitted for participant observation?
Unlike Rupert Murdoch’s biographer, William Shawcross, himself an Old
Mike Donaldson and Scott Poynting 159
Etonian, the son of a peer of the realm and a former British intelligence
officer (Nelson, 1992, p. 9), we cannot gain entrée to the milieu of enor-
mously rich men, nor are we likely to be granted an audience with their
like. Our social distance, the hostility of our subjects and their gatekeepers,3
and our own dislike of them, means that there are no serious prospects of
ethnography.
Life history
We found a viable alternative in a particular adaptation of life history meth-
ods. In Making the Difference, Connell et al. (1982) had used life history
methods in interviewing over 400 secondary school students (both male
and female), their parents and their teachers. About half of the participat-
ing families were ruling class, the other half working class. In their research,
the ‘ruling class’ means:
people who own or control significant accumulations of wealth (mainly

in companies) and thus act as employers of substantial numbers of work-
ers; people who through professional monopolies (such as lawyers or
accountants) or organizational power (through the state, for example) can
appropriate comparable shares of the social product; and the institutions
(companies, clubs, private schools, cultural organizations and so on) that
organize their power and their way of life.
(Connell, 1985, p. 8)
In recruiting cohorts of participants that were indisputably either ruling

class or working class, they avoided the ‘boundary’ issues alluded to above,
though they also firmly rejected the notion that the ‘middle class’ was a
‘class’ in the same sense as these two fundamental classes (Connell et al.,
1982, p. 147). The life history approach they deployed in this research
allowed them ‘to key into class processes, not just class positions’ and pro-
vided ‘an opportunity to investigate the connections between class relations
and gender relations – an interaction whose importance and complexity has
become increasingly obvious’ (Connell et al., 1981, p. 105).
The life history method, developed by Thomas and Znaniecki (1958) while
researching the proletarianization of Polish peasants and migrants, posited
that all social becoming can be seen as the product of a continual interaction
between individual consciousness and social reality. Thus human beings are
at the same time both actively producing their social reality and continu-
ally produced by it. Thomas and Znaniecki believed that this method gave
access to the reality of life, which produced social categories such as classes
(Kohli, 1981, p. 63). Life histories could show how social forces interact at
an individual level to produce those manifold decisions that not only shape
each person’s life, but also collectively and cumulatively comprise the direc-
tion and scale of major social agencies and their activity (Thompson, 1981,
p. 299). For Thomas and Znaniecki, the attempt to understand a biography
in all its uniqueness at the same time involved interpreting a social system,
as the phases and processes that mediate each are revealed in their relation
to the other (Ferrarotti, 1981, pp. 21–22).
Life histories, as conceived by Thomas and Znaniecki (1958), may draw
not only upon interviews, but also autobiographies, diaries and political
memoirs. While each of these types of documentary source is limited by the
purpose for which it was written and yields only a partial and particular
view, they all span a period of time. ‘Life history method always con-
cerns the making of social life through time. It is literally history’ (Connell,
1995, p. 89).
While Connell et al. (1982) could draw upon rich and candid interviews,
most of their ruling-class interviewees could fairly be described as lieutenants
of the class rather than captains of industry, let alone the class’s general staff.
Connell (2002, p. 321) recalls one family of ‘a man who rose far and fast to
become one of Australia’s most powerful industrialists’, but many were pro-
fessionals and salaried businessmen who, while undoubtedly ruling class in
the terms defined by these researchers, were not among the 2–5 per cent
of the wealthiest to whom we limited our study in Ruling Class Men. More-
over, our subjects were not filthy rich by dint of a ‘rapid rise’; we elected to
focus upon those families who had been ruling class for at least three gen-
erations. For such men, we would have to rely on existing biographies and
autobiographies.
We believe that it is possible to treat autobiographies and biographies as
‘found life histories’ (Donaldson and Poynting, 2007, pp. 17–18). Granted,
this involves eliding the distinction between biography and autobiography,
in order to have a multiplicity of sources and therefore the possibility of tri-
angulation. Catani (1981, p. 212) suggests that in life histories, the narrator
performs the role of an autobiographer, and the researcher that of a biogra-
pher. Marcia Wright (1989, p. 155) points out that life histories are mediated
by another (while presenting the subject’s perspective), whereas autobiogra-
phies give their subject the ultimate control over the representation of their
selves, while biography is informed by many sources of various significance.
Yet in the case of ruling-class men, we (Donaldson and Poynting, 2007,
pp. 18–19) observed that, the richer the subject, the more social is the
production of their story. The lonely vigil of the autobiographer, or the one-
on-one interaction with the biographer or life-historian, is not for the very
wealthy, who tend to retain professional teams to produce their story who
may call on scores of eager interviewees to enrich it.
What matters, then, is truthfulness. We want to use the insights of ruling-
class men (and those around them) into their world, to create a sense of their
place in it, of their understanding of themselves as men as they move in it
and shape it. We want to make this collective portrait – or perhaps more
accurately, ‘composite picture’ (Connell et al., 1981, p. 105) – as accurate
as we can, in ways that are not ‘reductionist’ but are rich in nuance and
subjectivity, and yet are, in some sense, reliable and representative of the
men they are and of the men like them. How can we ensure this?
Saturation and structure

Thomas and Znaniecki saw the sincerity of autobiographies as protection
against deception, to some extent. The arrogance, self-centredness and com-
plete assurance in his own rightness and entitlement of Conrad Black comes
through in his autobiographical work as entirely genuine and unguarded –
though fortunately this and other attributes that we have remarked are mul-
tiply corroborated by the several biographies of him, and by biographical
snippets in journalism as well. Nevertheless, we should take into account
that the autobiographer has unmediated control over the presentation of
his or her self, as Wright (1989, p. 155) notes, and ruling-class men can draw
on a lot of resources in compiling and presenting the desired portrait – they
may even own the publishing house! Thus we would commend what we
might call the Mandy Rice-Davies4 principle of methodology about ruling-
class men: ‘He would say that, wouldn’t he?’ Historians routinely consider
the interests of their sources and the bearing that these have on their pre-
sentation of subject matter; why wouldn’t life history method do so as well?
Well, not all historians; as Marx and Engels (1976, p. 62) scathingly observed
in The German Ideology,
Whilst in ordinary life every shopkeeper is very well able to distinguish

between what somebody professes to be and what he really is, our histo-
riography has not yet won even this trivial insight. It takes every epoch
at its word and believes that everything it says and imagines about itself
is true.
Where ruling-class men are also ideologues of an epoch – whether cham-

pioning neo-liberalism like Conrad Black or the Iraq war like Rupert
Murdoch – we must bear their interests in mind in assessing their account
of their relationship to historical events. We have found Thomas and
Znaniecki to be right about sincerity here: ruling-class men are usually
brutally frank about the pursuit of their own interests in their autobi-
ographies, as indeed they often are in revelations to biographers and
journalists.
Yet, as well as prevaricating, obfuscating, or outright lying (see the testi-
mony of Murdochs, father and son, to the British parliament’s 2011–2012
Leveson Inquiry for good examples of at least two out of these three), we
must take into account the possibility that our ruling-class male autobio-
graphical sources might actually be sincerely wrong. Ronald Fraser (1979), the
author of a superb oral history of the Spanish Civil War who later insight-
fully analysed his own memories of growing up as the young ‘master’ in
an English country manor house (Fraser, 1984), was concerned that people
may quite sincerely believe what is actually untrue (Elder, 1981, p. 110).
In his partly autobiographical exercise, Fraser interviewed his family’s former
servants and their children to interrogate his own recollections.
One methodological solution to the problem of corroborating oral testi-
monies was inspired by investigative journalists who reported on Watergate
conspiracy of the Nixon era in the US. In one study of corporate execu-
tives, sociologists used what they called ‘the Woodward-Bernstein principle
of verification’, which was that ‘Two independent sources had to validate or
confirm an observation before we took it as a social fact or common under-
standing’ (Denzin, 1981, p. 155). This makes good sense and we have found
it useful.
Yet Bertaux and Bertaux-Wiame (1981) are most helpful on this question,
through advancing the notion of ‘saturation’. This goes not only to the prob-
lem of truthfulness, but also to the question of when to stop gathering data.
These life history proponents advocate that researchers diversify as far as pos-
sible the cases observed until what they call ‘saturation’ is reached. When
specific elements emerge regularly, when it becomes obvious that certain
patterns are not due to random individual characteristics and circumstances,
then ‘saturation’ has been achieved and the study can be considered valid.
Subsequent life stories repeatedly revealed to Bertaux and Bertaux-Wiame
(1981) the same elements, which soon appeared characteristic not just of
the respondents but of their social relations. Stories were told the first time,
then confirmed and reconfirmed, over and over:
Every new life story was confirming what the preceding ones had shown.
Again and again we were collecting the same story [. . .] what was happen-
ing was a process of saturation: on it rests the validity of our sociological
assumptions. One life story is only one life story [. . .] Several life stories
taken from the same set of socio-structural relations support each other
and make up altogether a strong body of evidence.
(Bertaux and Bertaux-Wiame, 1981, p. 187)
The problem of truthfulness can thus be solved by checking life stories

against each other (Bertaux, 1981a, p. 9). ‘It took us about 15 life stories
to begin perceiving the saturation process; we did fifteen more and con-
firmed it. [. . .] By then the structural pattern had become quite clear to us’
(Bertaux and Bertaux-Wiame, 1981). They stopped after 30 cases. Bertaux
(1981b) judged that ‘there was no point going further’ for ‘the invisible but
ever present level of social relations’ had by this stage been uncovered.
In researching for Ruling Class Men and Donaldson’s work over the decade
preceding that,5 we found the saturation principle to be a very useful
guideline, and Bertaux and Bertaux-Wiame’s (1981) account, both of the
emergence of patterns of commonality and the revealing of underlying,
structural, social reality, to be sound and accurate.
One indispensable source of insight into the daily lives of extremely

wealthy men, which helped us considerably in analysing the autobio-
graphical and biographical data and compiling the composite pictures that
emerged, was the testimony and indeed research of those disillusioned or
marginalized former ‘insiders’ to the class whom we have called ‘ruling-
class traitors’. Ronald Fraser’s (1984) unique and fascinating book about his
ruling-class childhood in a country manor house, as mentioned above, com-
bines an oral history containing interviews with the servants who reared
him, with his own psychoanalysis, tying his ‘voyage of inner discovery’ to
an account of ‘the social past’. Fraser (1984, p. 91, p. 118) has written that
although he was ‘objectively a member of a privileged class’, he was ‘unable
subjectively to fill the role into which I was born’. Robert Morrell’s (1996)
work on white settler masculinity in Natal, particularly as it relates to privi-
leged private schooling, is outstanding. Adam Hochschild (1987) is the son
of the chairperson of the board of a vast mining multinational centred in
South Africa. As an adult, his abhorrence of apartheid led him eventually to
question the construction of his own masculinity. The book that he pro-
duced, as a journalist and author (Hochschild, 1987), tells a story of his
relationship with his father, which is extraordinary in its intensity and per-
spicacity. These estranged sometime insiders to the ruling class are able to
offer an invaluable view from within that is authentic and at the same time
reflexive and critical.
A brief outline of findings
We will list here very briefly some of the common features of third-
generation very rich men’s lives that emerged from the ‘found life histories’
that we studied.6 First, these men use their enormous power and influence
for personal gain no matter the social costs – at times merely to satisfy a
whim or an urge, sometimes to avoid personal boredom through lack of
what is seen as ‘challenge’, or at other times for the sheer excitement that
wielding such power apparently generates.
Second, we found that sentiment and consideration of others are
expunged from the character of these ruling-class men. Indeed, the con-
sequences of their actions are immaterial to them, because their belief in
their own superiority and their inflated vision of their own talents implies
the inferiority and inconsequentiality of everyone else. Their arrogance and
sense of entitlement is painstakingly inculcated and nurtured from birth.
They undergo a deliberate regime of ‘toughening up’, experiencing emo-
tional distance and a lack of intimacy that produces disconnection from
others, the repression of loving feelings and the distortion of any intimate
relationships that might hinder their accumulation of capital.
Infants of this class are raised by servants in the nursery, such that love and
emotion appear as a commodity provided by the market. Sons of the very
rich learn that they need no one particular person; the market meets their
needs. Domestic service also releases the rich from the need for basic life
skills. Feeling and emotion are commodified, and a sense of deep loss is con-
structed. Those servants they come to love are regularly moved on. This is
a concerted parental strategy designed to ‘build character’. Compounded by
the presence of servants in very large homes, the lack of intimacy and regime
of formality intensifies the repression of emotions, which can normally be
expressed only with and to those whose presence is typically uncertain
and frequently short-lived. Later as adults, ruling-class men depend emo-
tionally on those whom they pay, whose trust and confidentiality they
buy, confident that the affection and regard thus purchased will not be an
embarrassment in their own social circles.
Ruling-class boys are routinely ‘sent away’ to elite boarding schools. Here
they are inculcated in hierarchy and aggressively competitive individualism,
later brought to fruition, for some, in elite university colleges. At these exclu-
sive institutions, they take on a masculinity that is competitive, repressive,
aggressive and autocratic, forged in a deeply traditional structure that assigns
gendered tasks within a system of fixed hierarchies and impresses these so
firmly that they are transferred intact to the world outside.
The objective of this masculinity is domination. Those who either can’t
or don’t want to lead and to win are despised. The boys learn early that
friendship, even within their restricted circle, is unreliable and dangerous
because it threatens the distance that protects them from others and from
their own feelings for others. At the same time, these shallow and fragile
friendships suffice to support invaluable social networks, establishing con-
nections and making possible useful contacts. Brutalization and bullying
are endemic and functional in these schools, linking competition to ruth-
lessness. Conformity – to class – is another key product of this privileged
education.
The masculinity hegemonic in these institutions is characterized by the
absence of women from all but helping and serving functions. It sys-
tematically maligns and deprecates ‘womanly’ attributes wherever they
appear, defining them as manifestations of a vulnerability, passivity, soft-
ness and incompetence, thought by the boys also to typify homosexuality.
Defined against the otherness of femaleness, colour and homosexuality,
a special masculinity is effectively produced in these institutions. Might,
strength, aggression, honour, daring and indifference to the feelings of oth-
ers, are among its characteristics. It is an imperious, physically combative,
space-appropriating masculinity, which constricts diversity and ranks other
masculinities within the hierarchical logic of scrambling for future rewards.
In this way, the masculinity of the hegemonic is deeply caught up in the
preservation and continuance of the class which shapes its nature. Above
all, it trains those who embrace or suffer it, that it alone is the masculinity
that they need to succeed in the world they create in their own image.
It is but a short step from here to the boardroom, where the strate-
gies learned at school and college are consolidated and rigidified into a
fully developed ethos. Young ruling-class men are eased into the world
of business by their fathers or their fathers’ appointees and are generally
groomed for the inheritance of their ‘empires’. They slip into the existing
business networks, not the least part of which are in the form of marriage
alliances.
For ruling-class men, romantic, sexual and marital love appear as trans-
actions; as distant, strangely impersonal and instrumental just like all their
other dealings, which pass for close relations. Sex and love are commodities,
purchasable and exchangeable, to which even acquisitiveness, accumulation
and competition can apply. Certainly, power relations are central to them,
often involving bullying and humiliation. Sexual violence is not unknown,
but ruling-class men often avoid sanctions for this through the deployment
of their class and patriarchal power. In love, sex and marriage, as in other
areas of their lives, rich and powerful men impose their will and demand to
be entertained, satiated and appeased.
Space and motion are experienced and constructed differently by the very
wealthy. Their world is both homogenous and spatially dispersed; far-flung
and yet familiar; simultaneously global and seamless. Their fabulously swift,
extremely comfortable and intensely private multi-modal means of travel
compress space. The locations they move between, the buildings in which
they live, are very large, and one rich man occupies easily 1,000 times
more space than any ordinary person. The exclusivity of the suburbs of the
wealthy is maintained over time as their properties are passed down both
through the generations and between families, maintaining and enhancing
their value while ensuring the social isolation and internal cohesion of those
who own them.
The time of ruling-class men is by no means clearly divided between work
and leisure for the two merge perceptibly and there is little in the way of a
division between the working day and recreation. Their work often resem-
bles leisure, and leisure pursuits resemble work. Deals are done at dinner
parties, business is done at gentlemen’s clubs or over golf. At play, as at work,
the competitiveness, manipulation, control and the excitement of apparent
risk is what obsesses ruling-class men; without it they are bored and lack
purpose. The work of ruling-class men is characterized by obsessive compet-
itive individualism spurred by a keen sense of their superiority, and ceaseless
acquisitiveness reinforced by their feelings of deservedness. It involves the
habitual exercise of power expressed in hierarchy, bullying, manipulation
and determination to prevail. Detachment from, and ruthlessness towards,
others is virtually universal among this class of men.
The lack of distinction between work and leisure means that ruling-class
men rarely ‘retire’. At death, there is, in the manner of royalty, a succession.
Towards the ends of their lives, they become obsessed with the logistics of
passing on their empires, usually to family and mostly to sons. Many become
involved in leaving monuments to themselves – acts often interpreted
(as they would wish) as generosity, altruism or civic-mindedness, qualities
altogether out of keeping with the way they have lived their lives. Their
lives, devoid of friendship, trust, loyalty or meaningful love, are ultimately
made meaningless by their ceaseless pursuit of profit.
Of course, space has precluded the provision here of any of the evidence
for these findings, which is laid out in detail in Ruling Class Men. Suffice
to say that mutually corroborating and triangulating between a multiplicity
of diverse ‘found life history’ sources guided by the principle of ‘saturation’
outlined above, convinces us that our composite pictures of ruling-class men
are reliable and reflect the social structures that produce them and which
they in turn reproduce.
Some gaps and pointers
We will conclude this chapter by identifying some (perhaps obvious) gaps

in our research and some pointers for future research. One of the strengths
of our ‘sampling’ was at the same time a weakness. Our decision to focus
on male millionaires from at least three generations of wealth had two
strong advantages. By choosing to examine those who are nowhere near
the boundary of their class, we avoided digression into the largely fruitless
and abstracted debate over class boundaries. More importantly, our selection
gave special access to the mechanisms of transmission across generations of
ruling-class men’s way of living. That inevitably lends a ‘reproductionist’ feel
to our account. We can live with that. Yet it might be suggested that concen-
trating our attention on reproduction has been at the expense of recognizing
perhaps crucial changes in ruling-class masculinity. Life history method as
deployed by Connell (1995) in Masculinities is well designed to point up
structural changes. This may be easier with interviews with subjects carefully
selected as structurally located in arenas of social change (such as men in the
environmental movement, or men facing drastic changes in the labour mar-
ket) than it is with ‘found’ autobiographies and biographies of billionaire
scions and patriarchs.
Our focus on plutocratic families of at least three generations might also
miss interesting comparisons with those who have risen to the commanding
heights. While the dizzying peaks of the world’s wealthiest are not exactly
characterized by social mobility, we must confess that our selectivity not
only leaves out the richest man in the word, Carlos Slim Helú, but over-
looks those four out of the wealthiest nine of the 2011 Forbes Rich 100
list (the tenth is a woman) who are first-generation filthy rich. Further, this
‘three generations rule’ rules out those multi-billionaires among the world’s
richest who come from China and Russia and other parts of the former
Soviet Union. The way their wealth and power is transmitted to the next
generation(s), as well as its pursuit and deployment in their daily lives, will
be well worthy of future study.
Our attention to the culture of the very rich, and the intersectionality
between gender relations and class relations, should also alert researchers to
the interrelations of both of these sets of relations with cultures of ethnic-
ity. Our reliance on English language sources and our focus on anglophone
billionaires in Ruling Class Men have left these questions to be answered. The
economic developments in China and India, for example, with its inevitable
shifting of the centre of gravity of global economic power and the demo-
graphics of the extremely rich, will make these very important questions
indeed.
Conclusion
We have discussed in this chapter how the problem of masculinities

researchers’ distance from and access to men of great power and wealth can-
not be readily resolved through traditional interviewing or ethnographic
techniques. Consequently, the book Ruling Class Men (Donaldson and
Poynting, 2007) developed the alternative method explained here, with
which to investigate the masculinity of the hegemonic. It uses the biogra-
phies, autobiographies and diaries of ruling-class men and those around
them as ‘found life histories’ and resolves the issue of veracity through the
method of saturation. When particular facts, features, or events show up
with regularity in the life stories of very rich men, it soon becomes obvious
that certain elements are not due to chance or to personal idiosyncrasies but
are constitutive of and constituted by the social relations of class and gender
which are the focus of Ruling Class Men.
Notes
1. Although the ‘facts in the case’ may have altered somewhat in statistical terms
since Connell’s influential book was written, their fundamental pattern has not,
since the structures have not; the ‘case’ remains substantively the same.
2. Since then, Roger Salerno (2007) has written a book with this title, about the
‘Chicago School’, referring to its foundational contribution to this tendency.
3. The polo manager of Kerry Packer, Australia’s then richest man, threatened his
unofficial biographer Paul Barry that he would ‘spread [his] face’ (Hawley, 1993,
p. 10).
4. Mandy Rice-Davies was a friend of fellow ‘call girl’ Christine Keeler, a player in the
1963 Profumo scandal. She famously said this in court about the testimony of Lord
Astor.
5. ‘I want to do a sociology of ruling-class masculinity which solves the problem of
distance and access by using autobiographies and biographies of the men them-
selves and those around them and which tackles the problem of truthfulness
by developing a collective portrait of them through the method of saturation’
(Donaldson 1997, p. 102).
6. These findings can be found in detail in Donaldson and Poynting (2007), but
see also Donaldson (2003), Donaldson and Poynting (2004) and Poynting and
Donaldson (2005).
References
Bertaux, D. (1981a) ‘Introduction’ in D. Bertaux (ed.) Biography and Society: The Life
History Approach to the Social Sciences. Sage Studies in International Sociology 23 (Sage:
Beverly Hills).
Bertaux, D. (1981b) ‘From the Life History Approach to the Transformation of
Sociological Practice’ in D. Bertaux (ed.) Biography and Society: The Life History
Approach to the Social Sciences. Sage Studies in International Sociology 23 (Sage: Beverly
Hills).
Bertaux, D. and I. Bertaux-Wiame (1981) ‘Life Stories in the Bakers’ Trade’ in
D. Bertaux (ed.) Biography and Society: The Life History Approach to the Social Sciences.
Sage Studies in International Sociology 23 (Sage: Beverly Hills).
Catani, M. (1981) ‘Social-life Histories as Ritualised Exchange’ in D. Bertaux (ed.)
Biography and Society: The Life History Approach to the Social Sciences. Sage Studies in
International Sociology 23 (Sage: Beverly Hills).
Connell, R.W. (1983) Which Way is Up? Essays on Class, Sex and Culture (Sydney: George
Allen and Unwin).
Connell, R.W. (1985) Teachers’ Work (Sydney: George Allen and Unwin).
Connell, R.W. (1987) Gender and Power: Society, the Person and Sexual Politics
(Cambridge: Polity/Blackwell).
Connell, R. W. (1995) Masculinities (Sydney: Allen and Unwin).
Connell, R.W. (2002) ‘Making the Difference, Then and Now’, Discourse: Studies in the
Cultural Politics of Education, 23, 319–327.
Connell, R.W., G.W. Dowsett, S. Kessler, and D.J. Ashenden (1981) ‘Class and Gender
Dynamics in a Ruling-Class School’, Interchange 12, 102–117.
Connell, R.W., D.J. Ashenden, S. Kessler, and G.W. Dowsett (1982) Mak-
ing the Difference: Schools, Families and Social Division (Sydney: Allen and
Unwin).
Denzin, N. (1981) The Research Act (Chicago: Aldine).
Donaldson, M. (1991) Time of Our Lives: Labour and Love in the Working Class (Sydney:
Allen and Unwin).
Donaldson, M. (1993) ‘What is Hegemonic Masculinity?’ Theory and Society, 22,
643–657.
Donaldson, M. (1997) ‘Researching Ruling Class Men: Biography, Autobiography, Life
History’, Journal of Interdisciplinary Gender Studies, 2, 1, 95–112.
Donaldson, M. (2003) ‘Studying Up: The Masculinity of the Hegemonic’ in S. Tomsen
and M. Donaldson (eds) Male Trouble: Looking at Australian Masculinities (Melbourne:
Pluto Press Australia).
Donaldson, M. and S. Poynting (2004), ‘The Time of Their Lives: What Do Ruling-
Class Men Do?’ in N. Hollier (ed.) Ruling Australia: The Power, Privilege and Politics of
the New Ruling Class (Melbourne: Australian Scholarly Publishing).
Donaldson, M. and S. Poynting (2007) Ruling Class Men: Money, Sex, Power (Bern: Peter
Lang).
Elder, G. (1981) ‘History and the Life Course’ in D. Bertaux (ed.) Biography and Society:
The Life History Approach to the Social Sciences. Sage Studies in International Sociology
23. (Sage: Beverly Hills).
Ferrarotti, F. (1981) ‘On the Autonomy of the Biographical Method’ in D. Bertaux (ed.)
Biography and Society: The Life History Approach to the Social Sciences. Sage Studies in
International Sociology 23 (Sage: Beverly Hills).
Fraser, R. (1979) The Blood Of Spain: An Oral History of the Spanish Civil War (New York:
Pantheon).
Fraser, R. (1984) In Search of a Past: The Manor House, Amnersfield 1933–1945 (Thetford,
Norfolk: The Thetford Press).
Hawley, J. (1993) ‘The Second Son Also Rises’, Sydney Morning Herald Good Weekend,
31 July, p. 10.
Hochschild, A. (1987) Half the Way Home: A Memoir of Father and Son (New York:
Penguin Books).
Kohli, M. (1981) ‘Biography: Account, Text, Method’ in D. Bertaux (ed.) Biography and
Society: The Life History Approach to the Social Sciences. Sage Studies in International
Sociology 23 (Sage: Beverly Hills).
Marx, K. and Engels, F. (1976) The German Ideology, vol 5 of Collected Works (Moscow:
Progress Publishers).
Morrell, R. (1996) ‘White Farmers, Social Institutions and Settler Masculinity in the
Natal Midlands, 1880–1920’, unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Natal,
Durban.
Nelson, V. (1992) ‘How Gerard Henderson Whitewashed the Saviour of St Rupert’,
Broadside Weekly, 18 November, p. 9.
Poynting, S. and M. Donaldson (2005) ‘Snakes and Leaders: Hegemonic Masculinity
in Ruling-Class Boys’ Boarding Schools’, Men and Masculinities 7, 325–346.
Salerno, R. (2007) Sociology Noir: Studies at the University of Chicago in Loneliness,
Marginality and Deviance, 1915–1935 (MacFarland & Company Inc.: North Carolina).
Thomas, W.I. and F. Znaniecki (1958) The Polish Peasant in Europe and America (Dover:
New York).
Thompson, P. (1981) ‘Life Histories and the Analysis of Social Change’ in D. Bertaux
(ed.) Biography and Society: The Life History Approach to the Social Sciences. Sage Studies
in International Sociology 23 (Sage: Beverly Hills).
Wright, M. (1989) ‘Personal Narratives, Dynasties and Women’s Campaigns: Two
Examples from Africa’ in Personal Narratives Group, Interpreting Women’s Lives:
Feminist Theory and Personal Narratives (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana
University Press).
13
Getting into the Lives of Ruling-Class
Men: Conceptual Problems,
Methodological Solutions
Sebastián Madrid
Introduction
The sociology of men and masculinities has not systematically examined

the lives of ruling-class men by means of primary sources such as life-
history interviews. This is part of a broader problem where the study of
the privileged and powerful has been done mainly from ‘remote obser-
vation points’ (Gilding, 2010, p. 756). The studies that explicitly analyse
class experience as a constitutive element in the construction of ruling-
class masculinities are scarce. In South Africa, Morrell (2001) produced a
historical account of the formation and reproduction of ruling-class men in
colonial Natal. In Australia, Donaldson and Poynting (2007) researched the
lives of three generations of millionaire men using biographical and autobi-
ographical secondary data. These studies have enhanced our understanding
about how power structures are masculinized. They have also opened the
door to explore the lives of contemporary ruling-class men from their own
experience.
The lack of research on ruling-class men and masculinities grounded on
life histories is curious, since life-history research has long been the key
method in the field in both Anglo-Saxon (Messner, 1992; Messerschmidt,
2000; Connell, 2005) and Latin-American countries (Fuller, 2001; Olavarría,
2001; Viveros, 2002). Some scholars have started conducting life-history
interviews with businessmen working in transnational corporations as the
site of potentially emerging hegemonic masculinities in the context of glob-
alization in Australia (Connell and Wood, 2005), and Chile (Olavarría, 2009).
This is an interesting line of research that connects changes in masculin-
ity and power with global processes. These studies, however, rarely use the
Author’s note: I thank the editors for their comments on early versions of this chapter
that helped me to improve it.
170
Sebastián Madrid 171
theoretical concept of class in their analysis, being more interested in the

labour process in transnational corporations.
The most common explanation for not using this method in researching
ruling-class men has been that social distance, and difficulties of access and
corroboration, would make the use of interviews almost impossible. This
argument, however, was challenged a long time ago. Nader (1972, p. 302)
argued that problems of access are part of anthropological fieldwork and
solving them ‘is part of what constitutes “making rapport” ’.
This advice has been picked up by the new research agenda of the sociol-
ogy of elites, that has increasingly been using in-depth interviews (Harvey,
2011). In Chile, Thumala (2007) interviewed 75 businessmen of the 13
largest economic groups. In Australia, Gilding (2010) interviewed 43 super-
rich men and women from the BRW Rich 200. All these authors agree that
access is difficult, but not impossible. Unfortunately, the sociology of elites is
rarely interested in the gender dimension of its interviewees and only focuses
on people in top positions in certain institutions (MPs, CEOs and so on).
In this chapter, I offer a new approach to study ruling-class men and
masculinities. This approach is based on a wider definition of the ruling
class that incorporates the empirical experience of the sociology of men and
masculinities, and differentiates it from the sociology of elites.
The material is based on one component of my ongoing doctoral research
that examines the emerging masculinities and the transformation of gender
relations among different fractions of the contemporary Chilean ruling class.
Studying the lives of ruling-class men from their own experience is relevant
because we need a broader understanding of social inequalities and dynam-
ics of oppression. It is also relevant because the ruling class has a major role
in producing hegemonic forms of masculinity (Morgan, 2005; Donaldson
and Poynting, 2007).
After reviewing the concept of ruling class, the chapter examines the
empirical aspects of a wider definition for the study of contemporary
men and masculinities in contexts of privilege and power. Particularly, the
chapter focuses on the impact of a wider definition of the sample design,
and on the gender and class power dynamics of the process of conducting
life histories with ruling-class men.
Ruling class, masculinities and power: From theory

to practice
When sociologists have studied power and privilege, they have framed their
research in terms of elites or ruling class. These are two different theoretical
traditions that imply two different approaches to power in society. The con-
cept of ruling class is preferable for studying masculinities because it puts
issues of power, domination, conflict and social change at the front of the
analysis. However, both concepts share a tendency to focus on the position
172 Getting into the Lives of Ruling-Class Men
of people either in an institution or in a structure. Thus, the ruling class and

elites have generally been defined as people (typically men) who are at the
top of key institutions such as the state or corporations and/or in an occupa-
tional structure and/or at the top of a scale of wealth. This conceptualization
is problematic because it is not accurate and limits the research alternatives.
If we trace the history of the concept of ruling class, it is possible to see that
it is based on a tradition that stresses that class is an ongoing system of rela-
tions that is ‘always embodied in real people in a real context’ (Thompson,
1968, p. 9). It is ‘lived social relations’ (Donaldson and Poynting, 2007, p. 10)
that involves a large network of people who have similar kinds of practices
(Connell, 1983). Thus, the concept overcomes the idea (present in other tra-
ditions) that class is a specific position or an accumulation of traits that
supposes an external category.
The ruling class, then, can be defined as a group of people who have access
to power and privileges and also who successfully respond to constraints of
social and economic situations (Connell et al., 1982). Most importantly, the
concept means a group that has the capacity to rule not in terms of ‘execu-
tive control’ but in terms of a ‘collective domination’ that might transform
economic and politic domination into cultural hegemony (Connell, 1977).
Money and institutional power then are important elements but do not
define the whole aspect of the ruling class. The ruling class is not a homo-
geneous or static block. The richest individuals and the most powerful in
different institutions are only the corporate fraction of the ruling class.
These ideas have fundamental conceptual and methodological implica-
tions for the sociology of men and masculinities. They move the research
focus from variation among classes to variation within a specific class. Clas-
sically, men and masculinity researchers have used social class either as an
external category that impacts on masculinities or as a sample variable. This
rationality has led scholars to suggest that there is a single pattern of mas-
culinity practices associated with different classes (Tolson, 1977; Messner,
1992; Olavarría, 2001). However, changes in contemporary class structures
and gender relations can be expressed in different patterns of masculinities
in one class, as studies in Mexico (Guttman, 1996) and Colombia (Viveros,
2002) have shown. The idea of internal divisions and conflicts makes it possi-
ble to explore multiple patterns of masculinities within the ruling class (not
necessarily one pattern in each fraction), overcoming the sense of homo-
geneity and lack of internal conflict of previous researches (Carrigan et al.,
1985; Donaldson and Poynting, 2007).
Taking seriously the idea of different patterns of masculinities within
the ruling class also lets us study the formation of multiple hegemonic
masculinities not only in different geographical levels (Connell and
Messerschmidt, 2005) but also in different institutional contexts in the same
class milieu (Reich, 2010). It allows then the study of the process of legiti-
mation of hierarchical relationships between masculinities and femininities,
men and women, and among men, and the study of the relationship
between hegemonic and non-hegemonic forms of masculinities in the ruling
class (Messerschmidt, 2010).
The idea of the ruling class as a large network of people also enhances the
universe of potential participants, including younger generations, and men
in fractions that are not necessarily in leadership positions but close enough
to be related to power and enjoy its privileges. Most importantly, this allows
us to include women and to give specific attention to their practices and
the historical interplay of femininities and masculinities when researching
hegemonic masculinities (Connell and Messerschmidt, 2005). This is more
than the statistical assumption that in increasing the sample size, our under-
standing of masculinities will be increased or complemented. This move puts
the relationship between masculinities and femininities at the centre of the
study of gender hegemony (Schippers, 2007).
Contacting ruling-class men: Power in action
I approached the ruling-class men from an institutional context and from

there I started exploring their lives. I focused on different types of elite pri-
vate schools because they have long been recognized as a constitutive realm
in the organization of the ruling class. In Chile, for instance, despite the
fact that elite private schools comprise less than 1 per cent of the intake,
84 per cent of the CEOs of the 100 biggest companies studied in 1 of those
schools; 50 per cent attended only 10 schools (Seminarium, 2003). This does
not mean that all alumni will become part of the corporate fraction or that
there is no downwards or upwards social mobility, but stresses that these
schools are a constitutive part of the ruling class (Connell et al., 1982) so
they can reflect changes and divisions within it.
I designed a sample strategy grounded on the schools’ preference of
the ruling class in Santiago de Chile (PNUD-Chile, 2004; Thumala, 2007).
These preferences have long been connected with the Catholic Church and
expressed in different groups of schools depending on their confessional and
political ideological orientations. First, schools founded by long-established
traditional European Catholic congregations, some of them in the nine-
teenth century (Jesuits, for instance), which were the preferred schools of the
ruling class up to the 1970s–1980s. Second, schools established by conserva-
tive new Catholic movements since the 1970s (such as Opus Dei), which
became the preferred ones during the early 1990s. Third, non-religious
schools established by European communities between the 1850s and the
1950s. The few selective public schools, which were the preferred ones
during the nineteenth century, were also included.
I focused on the younger generation of ruling-class men (19–45 years old).
This decision excluded the great majority of the members of the corporate
fraction of the ruling class since on average they are around 55 years old
(PNUD-Chile, 2004; Thumala, 2007; Gilding, 2010). This decision allowed

me to interview men who had been educated in two different and recent
sociopolitical situations: (a) during the dictatorship and at the beginning of
neoliberal reforms, and (b) under democracy and during the consolidation of
the neoliberal model. Younger generations of Chileans grew up in a context
of transformation of gender relations that has been reflected in more gender
equity attitudes (Aguayo et al., 2011).
In parallel, I decided to include women in the sample for two reasons.
Departing from the theoretical moves suggested above, women can be
understood not only as part of the ruling-class circuits of practice but also
as playing an important role in the making of hegemonic masculinities.
As Connell (2005, p. 44) suggests ‘masculinity as an object of knowledge
is always masculinity-in-relation’. I was interested in examining this issue
more closely as there is a lack of empirical research in this area, particularly
in a context of privilege and social exclusion.
In the course of the study, women played an interesting role in recruiting
men. This is a twofold process. Some women initially interviewed contacted
me with men in senior positions. This implied that they convinced poten-
tial participants to be interviewed. They acted as gatekeepers. One senior
manager in private tertiary education told me that if his wife, whom I had
previously interviewed, had not asked him, he would have never agreed to be
interviewed. However, other women suggested that their husbands or broth-
ers were very busy without even asking them. I was able to interview two
couples through this process.
Having set the sample framework, I approached the interviewees via a
three-step purposive snowball strategy. I had the advantage of attending a
traditional Catholic elite private school myself and a selective university
in Chile. However, as I did not know many men from other elite private
schools, in the first stage, I contacted former university and work mates who
had attended different types of elite private schools in Santiago and asked
them if they could act as gatekeepers and contact me with their former
classmates. I tried to cover the widest possible range of men, women and
schools.
These two elements were crucial to access to ruling-class men. As a profes-
sor told me in Chile at the beginning of the fieldwork, ‘your study would be
impossible to do by someone who was not like you’. It was a disturbing but
accurate comment. Moreover, many interviewees directly told me that they
were receiving me because I had been referred to them by someone of their
network.
In a second stage, I contacted potential interviewees. The first approach
was through an email that indicated the research nature and objectives,
the topics of the interview and its estimated duration, and also a guaran-
tee of confidentiality. The initial contact was generally followed by a phone
call as some interviewees asked to speak with me before being interviewed.
In a third stage, I asked interviewees to contact me with their former

classmates. As always, some streams worked better than others. This process
was extremely time-consuming, but I got a high rate of acceptance. Gen-
erally, unsuccessful contacts were with alumni of new religious movement
schools.
The Chilean ruling class: Young generations and power
Following this strategy, I conducted 45 face-to-face focused life-history inter-

views (Plummer, 2001) with 36 men and 9 women alumni of 18 elite private
schools and 2 elite public schools. The majority of the interviewees attended
single sex schools with the exception of those who attended non-religious
schools.
It is a quite diverse sample in terms of class fractions and their cur-
rent adult lives. Some are part of the ‘traditional oligarchy’. This means
they are part of very rich and traditional families that have been linked
to economic and political power, in some cases, from the mid-nineteenth
century. Others grew up in families whose wealth is more recent, including
those that benefited from the industrialization process in the mid-twentieth
century or the privatization process boosted by the right-wing dictator-
ship from the late 1970s. The upbringing of others was in families with
professional–managerial parents. A minority grew up in working class fami-
lies, particularly those from selective public schools. Some were brought up
in families with strong political and religious connections. Some grew up
in families with European or Arab backgrounds, but all can be considered
white. “The great majority of the families have lived in the capital city for
generations, particularly in the wealthiest part of Santiago: the upper-town”.
To different degrees the interviewees identified with Catholicism, but not
many practise it, and there are a couple who are agnostic. All except four
grew up in right-wing families and currently identify themselves with that
political position.
However, not all the interviewees followed their family class trajectory
showing that the formation of a class is an ongoing process. All except three
interviewees had university degrees. Many obtained a traditional degree
(business administration, engineering, law) and they are the second or more
generation with at least one parent with university studies, in a country
were 70 per cent of current university students are the first generation at
the university. Almost half have postgraduate degrees awarded in Chile
or/and overseas. Twenty men are managers, of whom eight occupy senior
positions in large national/transnational corporations. Nine work as pro-
fessionals in the private sector, and three work as managers in a family
company. Unlike the majority of their mothers, all women interviewed
worked, but the majority on a part-time basis. Only one has a senior posi-
tion. In terms of their private life, three-quarters of the interviewees were
married and two-thirds had children. While the majority grew up in fami-
lies with a patriarchal gender division of labour, some have produced more
gender equitable arrangements. However, there is still a massive tendency
to rely on domestic service, including live-in female domestic employees
(known as nanas). All interviewees except one male presented themselves as
heterosexuals.
Doing life histories with ruling-class men: Power

in context1
The anxiety of some sociologists of elite about the power imbalance in the
interview context reflects that social scientists are not familiar with study-
ing people who might be in positions of greater power than them. Based
on a feminist approach, Conti and O’Neil (2007, p. 79) criticize the notion
of ‘studying up’ precisely because it ‘distorts and reifies the complex power
dynamics in the interview’ obscuring ‘the complex agency and subject posi-
tion of all people involved in the research process’. That is, overestimates the
agency of elites and underestimates the agency of the researcher. Some schol-
ars suggest, then, that many of the initial anxieties about power imbalance
are ‘misplaced’ (Ross, 2001, p. 164; Gilding, 2010).
I would add that the problem is exaggerated because elite researchers
reduce their subjects of study to people in top institutional positions and
interview them in that account. This problem is avoided when using the
enhanced concept of ruling class presented above. The new concept allowed
me to interview privileged and powerful men not from their institutional
position but from an everyday life context. For instance, when I interviewed
senior managers I interviewed them as alumni of elite private schools, not
as corporate men.
Thus, the interview dynamic here is different from what social scientist
are used to, but it is not a situation of subordination or marginalization.
I experienced that difference in a number of ways doing the interviews with
ruling-class men. These differences stressed that power is a situated relation-
ship that varies depending on the context. It also implied simultaneous class
and gender power dynamics. For an analytical purpose, I will present these
power dynamics separately.2
The first difference in terms of power is what I called ‘the interviewer
being interviewed’. At the outset of the interviews with senior managers or
members of the traditional fraction of the ruling class, it was common that
they interviewed me, asking questions about my life and upbringing. This
included issues from the school I attended, to how my life in Sydney was,
or what my plans were after completing the PhD. Thus, it seemed that they
were more interested in positioning me in the class structure than in the
research. As I was an alumnus of an elite private school and relatively the
same age as one-third of the interviewees (mid-30s), some of them used my
school as a point of comparison during the interview (‘unlike/like in your

school’), or used it to define class boundaries (‘like you and me’).
Ultimately, my personal biography was a double-edged sword. The fact
that I attended my elite private school made some interviewees a bit sus-
picious. This has a political explanation since the school where I studied
used to be rather progressive for its class context. Even after the right-
wing military coup, it was the only elite private school where the armed
forces intervened, due to its policy of social integration. It was also the
first, and during many years the only, traditional Catholic private school
that was fully co-educational. It is also seen as a school with a relaxed dis-
cipline code. Another reason for suspicion was my professional career – a
sociologist, who has worked in the academy and public sector on issues
related to social justice and gender equity. Moreover, while my family are
employed professionally I do not have a history of family wealth. Thus, I was
seen as an insider for some of the interviewees, but as an outsider for oth-
ers, demonstrating the relationality and complexity of masculine and class
practices.
Another difference is that interviewees assessed the interview in a range of
ways. Some interviewees made evaluative comments about their own prac-
tice such as ‘I think that this was a good interview’. Others evaluated the
methodology stating comments such as ‘what are you going to do with
all this information?’ Others took the therapeutic template (Gilding, 2010)
and suggested that the interview had had therapeutic effects on them or
that it had made them think about issues that they had never thought
before.
Similarly, the control of time and space is also different when interviewing
ruling-class men. In echoes of the methodological writing on elite interview-
ing, I had to deal with the challenges of some senior managers who kept me
waiting for long periods for interviews or that ended them before the sched-
uled time. Interestingly, in the latter situation, after the brief interview we
spent almost an hour talking informally about ‘masculine topics’ (such as
politics). Finally, interviewees sometimes occupied a position that expressed
their control of the space. While interviews were conducted in a range of
places including homes, elegant offices of senior managers, social clubs or
coffeehouses, some placed themselves so that they were in a position of
power such as at the head of a board table or on the main couch in the
living room.
Nevertheless, the situations described above were the exception. Gen-
erally, people respected the time they had previously assigned for the
interview. On average, the interviews lasted about 90 minutes and even
in some cases – particularly with senior managers – they were conducted
in more than one session. Also, interviewees never questioned my research
project or tried to impose their own research agenda. On the contrary, some
interviewees legitimized my position since I had an expert knowledge as a
sociologist and PhD candidate. All interviewees allowed me to use a recorder.

Some men were great storytellers and even apologized ‘for speaking too
much’. Furthermore, many interviewees demonstrated a more democratic
attitude to the interview by preparing coffee in the office kitchen, expressing
keen interest in my responses or offering me their help to contact potential
participants.
Complicating the power dynamics of the interviews was the question of
gender as part of a process of a heterosexual and married man interview-
ing other (mainly) heterosexual (and married) men. This is an aspect not
much discussed in the sociology of men and masculinities grounded on life
history. Male scholars have reflected on the method and its implication for
the research (Messerschmidt, 2000) or discussed instrumental issues related
to the sample characteristics and interview protocols (Olavarría, 2001), but
rarely explored how the interview itself is produced in a gendered context
where masculinities are also displayed. One of the exceptions is Messner
(1992, p. 178) who has remarked males’ tendency to ‘abstract their feelings’,
even by speaking about themselves in third person. This situation con-
trasts with the literature that reflects and analyses the experience of female
researchers interviewing men. In Latin America, Fuller (2001) and Viveros
(2002) have stressed the ambivalence they faced as women when asking
questions about intimacy, sexuality and emotions. They have also stressed
how gender and race enmesh in this process. In Australia, Pini (2005) has
suggested how men did masculinity while she was conducting the interviews
by stressing their heterosexuality and power positions.
During the interviews the gendered nature of the interview was expressed
from the nicknames that some interviewees chose (Rambo, Jim Morrison and
Stuart Little) to men adopting a rationalist approach to the interview. The
gender dynamics of the interview was also informed by my interest in the
intimate life of the interviewees. Life-history interviews were thematically
focused on different stages of the respondents’ lives, but with enough flexi-
bility to explore emerging topics as the interviewees’ narratives progressed.
Although ruling-class men did not see the interview as a ‘threat’ to their
masculinity, it was clear that some men were not comfortable unfolding
their intimate lives to a stranger. They adopted distancing strategies such
as silence, use of the third person, deflection or exaggerated rationality as
a means of navigating the discussion and not undermining their sense of
masculinity.
Of the topics traversed in interviews, perhaps the most challenging for
some men was the one concerning sexuality; that is, sexual practices dur-
ing school days, memories of sexual initiation, formal sexual education and
homosexuality. Generally, interviewees spoke about sexuality in first person
and without any visible discomfort, particularly those outside the tradi-
tional oligarchy fraction or the ones who have lived overseas. Others sought
to make ‘masculine’ connections using a suggestive ‘as you know’ when
referring to sexual practices at school. They assumed I had knowledge of

such practices and that I was potentially accepting them. For instance, some
ruling-class men described a collective school practice known as ‘chulear’.
This refers to ruling-class men going to working class discotheques or bars
to sexually approach women, taking advantage of their class position. The
narratives were very sexist and classist, differentiating two types of women
for two types of intimate relationships. Importantly, in describing this prac-
tice, men referred to it as being undertaken by ‘other’ classmates or friends
rather than by themselves. In other cases, I faced silence and defensiveness
when raising the subject of sexuality, dealing with interviewees who repeat-
edly stated, ‘I do not remember’ despite my effort to ask the question about
sexual relations in their school in different ways and moments. This attitude
contrasted with the willingness of these men to speak about their labour
trajectory and politics.
Finally, as the interview is an interactive process, a few men displayed
their masculinity by using the interview setting to present themselves as
normal (in their account) or as embodying hegemonic masculinity (in our
account). When claiming normality, these men were in fact implying that
they were ‘proper men’. At the outset of the interviews, they claimed that
they didn’t have traumas from their school days. This statement implied
that they had not been subordinated or marginalized at school. This strategy
operated mainly through the normalization of violence – a part of the pro-
cess of growing up and becoming a man even if they had been bullied – and
through making homosexuality invisible, as something that nobody talked
about.
During the interviews, I tried to see different scenarios of power relations
as a source of information instead of as a problem. I used my position of
insider to build rapport and to balance the power relation, and my posi-
tion of outsider to avoid class and gender ‘bonding ploys’ (Schwalbe and
Wolkomir, 2001, p. 98). That is, when the interviewees tried to make gender
and class connections – ‘like you and me’, ‘as you know’ – I replied asking for
the meaning of those expressions instead of just accepting them in order to
maintain the rapport and flow of the interview. I also tried to understand
sexist and classist response silences, deflection or exaggerated rationality
in the context of the formation of ruling-class masculinities. I also used
post-interview conversations to challenge sexists and classists by presenting
different alternatives to them.
Conclusion
Studying the lives of ruling-class men is critical for understanding and chal-
lenging the general structure of inequality and oppression in a society. This
chapter has discussed a new approach for studying ruling-class masculinities
by using life histories, and avoiding the problems revealed in the literature.
The main element of this approach is based on an expanded concept of the

ruling class beyond the super rich and individual in top positions. To do
this, I have focused on institutions and gender relations rather than on indi-
vidual institutional positions, though the method involves encounters with
individual lives.
Following the contributions of sociologists of men and masculinity who
have used life histories, the chapter has also addressed some practical
problems of interviewing ruling-class men, challenging the idea of power
imbalance and stressing the uniqueness of these interviewing contexts in
terms of power distribution.
It has been suggested that the interview dynamics with ruling-class men
shifted between moments of tension and others of ease. In the majority
of the cases, however, ruling-class men wanted to talk, and in some cases
they were even amused with the conversation. Interviews are an interac-
tive process, which need constant negotiation and adjustment. This process
reflects that researchers and interviewees adopt different positions during
the interview. It also stresses that power is a situated relationship that varies
depending on the context.
Getting into the lives of ruling-class men just starts when you contact
the first interviewee and conduct the interview. The different scenarios of
power relations during the interview make sense when they are critically
integrated with the analysis of the lives of ruling-class men (and women).
This is a reflexive process that requires ‘to think of the interview as a unit’
(Connell, 2010, p. 67) to unpack structural patterns such as the relation
between hegemonic and non-hegemonic masculinities (and femininities).
Integrating interview dynamics with the interview contents also allows us
to explore the simultaneous production of gender and class relations.
Notes
1. Because of lack of space, I will only refer to the interviews with ruling-class men.
2. It is important to note that I share a similar racial background with the interviewees
and this affected the other two dynamics. However, racial dynamics will not be
explored in this chapter.
References
Aguayo, F., P. Correa and P. Cristi (2011) Encuesta IMAGES Chile Resultados de la
Encuesta Internacional de Masculinidades y Equidad de Género [IMAGE Chile Survey:
Findings of the International Survey on Masculinities and Gender Equity] (Santiago:
EME-ICRWC).
Carrigan, T., R. Connell and J. Lee (1985) Toward a new sociology of masculinity.
Theory and Society, 14, 551–604.
Connell, R. (1977) Ruling Class, Ruling Culture: Studies of Conflict, Power, and Hegemony
in Australian Life (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).
Connell, R. (1983) Which Way Is Up?: Essays on Sex, Class and Culture (Sydney: Allen &
Unwin).
Connell, R. (2005) Masculinities, 2nd edn (Cambridge, UK: Polity Press).
Connell, R. (2010) ‘Lives of the Businessmen. Reflections on Life-history Method and
Contemporary Hegemonic Masculinity’, Österreichische Zeitschrift für Soziologie, 35,
54–71.
Connell, R., D.J. Ashenden, S. Kessler and G.W. Dowsett (1982) Making the Difference:
Schools, Families and Social Division (Sydney: Allen & Unwin).
Connell, R.W. and J.W. Messerschmidt (2005) ‘Hegemonic Masculinity: Rethinking
the Concept’, Gender and Society, 19, 829–859.
Connell, R. and J. Wood (2005) ‘Globalization and Business Masculinities’, Men and
Conti, J.A. and M. O’Neil (2007) ‘Studying Power: Qualitative Methods and the Global
Elite’, Qualitative Research, 7, 63–82.
Donaldson, M. and S. Poynting (2007) Ruling Class Men: Money, Sex, Power (Bern: Peter
Lang).
Fuller, N. (2001) Masculinidades.Cambios y Permanencias [Masculinities. Change and
Continuities] (Lima: P. Universidad Católica del Perú).
Gilding, M. (2010) ‘Motives of the Rich and Powerful in Doing Interviews with Social
Scientists’, International Sociology, 25, 755–777.
Guttman, M. C. (1996) The Meanings of Macho (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University
of California Press).
Harvey, W. S. (2011) ‘Strategies for Conducting Elite Interviews’, Qualitative Research,
11, 431–441.
Messerschmidt, J.W. (2000) Nine Lives: Adolescent Masculinities, the Body and Violence
(Boulder, CO: Westview Press).
Messerschmidt, J. (2010) Hegemonic Masculinities and Camouflaged Politics (Boulder,
CO: Paradigm).
Messner, M.A. (1992) Power at Play: Sports and the Problem of Masculinity (Boston:
Beacon Press).
Morgan, D. (2005) ‘Class and Masculinity’ in M. Kimmel, J. Hearn and R. Connell
(eds) Handbook of Studies on Men and Masculinities (London: Sage).
Morrell, R. (2001) From Boys to Gentlemen: Settler Masculinity in Colonial Natal, 1880–
1920 (Pretoria: UNISA).
Nader, L. (1972) ‘Up the Anthropologist: Perspectives Gained from Studying Up’ in
D.H. Hynes (ed.) Reinventing Anthropology (New York: Pantheon).
Olavarría, J. (2001) ¿Hombres a la Deriva? Poder, Trabajo y Sexo [Adrift Men? Power, Work
and Sex] (Santiago: FLACSO).
Olavarría, J. (ed.) (2009) Masculinidades y Globalización. Trabajo y vida Privada, Familias
y Sexualidades [Masculinities and Globalisation. Work and Private Life, Families and
Sexualities] (Santiago: CEDEM-Universidad Academia de Humanismo Cristiano).
Pini, B. (2005) ‘Interviewing Men – Gender and the Collection and Interpretation of
Qualitative Data’, Journal of Sociology 41, 201–216.
Plummer, K. (2001) Documents of Life 2: An Invitation to a Critical Humanism, 2nd edn
(London: Sage).
PNUD-Chile (2004) El poder: ¿para qué y para quién? Informe Desarrollo Humano en Chile
2004 [Power: For What and For Whom? Human Development Report in Chile 2004]
(Santiago: Programa Naciones Unidas para el Desarrollo).
Reich, A. (2010) Hidden Truth: Young Men Navigating Lives In and Out of Juvenile Prison
(Berkeley: University of California Press).
Ross, K. (2001) ‘Political Elites and the Pragmatic Paradigm: Notes from a Feminist
Researcher – in the Field and Out to Lunch’, International Journal of Social Research
Methodology, 4, 155–166.
Seminarium (2003) La Educación de los Líderes Corporativos [The Education of the
Corporate Leaders] (Santiago: Seminarium Head Hunters).
Schippers, M. (2007) ‘Recovering the Feminine Other: Femininity, Masculinity, and
Gender Hegemony’, Theory and Society, 36, 85–102.
Schwalbe, M., and M. Wolkomir (2001) ‘The Masculine Self as Problem and Resource
Thompson, E.P. (1968) The Making of the English Working Class (Harmondsworth:
Penguin Books).
Thumala, M.A. (2007) Riqueza y Piedad: El Catolicismo de la Elite Económica Chilena
[Wealth and Piety: The Catholicism of the Chilean Economic Elite] (Santiago: Random
House Mondadori).
Tolson, A. (1977) The Limits of Masculinity (London: Tavistock).
Viveros, M. (2002) De Quebradores y Cumplidores: Sobre Hombres, Masculinidades y
Relaciones de Género en Colombia [Of Breakers and Compliers: About Men, Masculinities
and Gender Relations in Colombia] (Bogotá: Universidad Nacional de Colombia,
Fundación Ford, Profamilia).
14
Men Researching Violent Men:
Epistemologies, Ethics and Emotions
in Qualitative Research
Malcolm Cowburn
Introduction
Researching men who have been violent and understanding the violence
that they have committed is complex and difficult. It raises intellectual,
epistemological, ethical and emotional challenges for all researchers. This
chapter explores the particular issues for men engaging in research with
other men who have committed various acts of violence. The word ‘vio-
lence’ itself refers to a wide range of activities; generally it carries a negative
implication. Violence is bad; but then not all violence is bad, protective
defensive violence may be construed as a necessary evil. Violence within
sport is increasingly recognized as an inevitable component of many activi-
ties, whether the ‘end’ of the sport is violence (martial arts including boxing)
or whether violence becomes a necessary ‘means’ to success. Additionally,
the violences perpetrated in the name of the State, through military or other
means, are rarely named as ‘violence’. These forms of violence are gener-
ally interpersonal, but can also be genocidal or ecological; they all have
wider social impacts. The violence can be physical, psychological, emo-
tional or environmental. This chapter, however, is concerned with a narrow
field of violent activities – interpersonal violence committed by men against
women, children and other men.
Hearn (1998) highlights that most social theorizing and social science
research conducted by men does not explicitly include consideration of
how the gender of the author/researcher affects the material that is pro-
duced. This chapter reflects on the role and participation of men engaged
in researching violent men. In doing so, it aims to encourage more men
researching this area to attempt to adopt a position that Hearn (1998, p. 786)
describes as ‘critique’; from this position, men ‘ . . . critically and reflex-
ively engage with both themselves and the topic, within an emancipatory
context.’
183
184 Men Researching Violent Men
However, it is important to recognize that the process of ‘reflexive engage-

ment’ is complex. Hearn (1998) points to both substantive and process issues
for consideration. Substantive issues concern the existing literature and how
it informs research and how research changes the literature. This requires
reflection on the particular epistemological standpoint of the researcher and
then consideration of how this has played a part in the type of narrative that
has emerged. Harding’s (1991) discussion of ‘strong objectivity’ suggests that
the ‘objectivity’ emerging from an explicit reflection on the values of the
researcher is stronger than the ‘scientific’ objectivity of positivist social sci-
ence, which ignores the part played by the researcher in the collection of
data. Hearn (1998, p. 786) also points to the need for researchers ‘to criti-
cally and reflexively engage with . . . themselves’. This requires consideration
of the process of research and of how the methods of data collection have
created the findings of the research. In relation to qualitative research this
requires reflection on both the cognitive and emotive aspects of how data
is collected. Ezzy (2010, p. 167) suggests that explicit reflection should also
include consideration of how researchers’ emotions have played a part in
the creation of the research data. The challenge for researchers, Ezzy (2010,
p. 169) suggests, ‘is to explicitly acknowledge that embodied emotional ori-
entations always and inevitably influence the research process and to engage
these in dialogue’. The process is continuous from the inception of the
project to the dissemination of the findings.
This chapter in turn considers ontology, epistemology, male forms of life
and language games; male language games and the emotional framing of
qualitative data ‘collection’; ethical and practical implications of emotional
engagement; reflecting on the personal impact on men of researching vio-
lent men; disseminating research on violent men and implications for the
research practice of men.
Ontology, epistemology, male forms of life

and language games
The online Oxford English Dictionary (OED, 2012) offers this definition of
‘ontology’: ‘The science or study of being; that branch of metaphysics con-
cerned with the nature or essence of being or existence’. It is not the purpose
of this section to engage in obscure semantic and philosophical discussion
about meaning and being; however, the word ‘essence’ opens up interest-
ing avenues for consideration. Burr (2003) identifies essentialist approaches
to ontology by their fixed view of being – those that identify a particular
essence of a person to explain how s/he ‘is’ in all circumstances; for example,
the essence of a man is his masculinity and this can be used to explain every-
thing! There is no need to repeat the analysis of the tautological thinking
underpinning this approach (see Clatterbaugh, 1998). However, exploring
the nature of being from a non-essentialist point of view can point inquiry
Malcolm Cowburn 185
into very different areas; no longer viewing being as fixed, it can be seen as
fluid and dependant on circumstances. It is something that is constructed
rather than revealed, and it is constructed through enactment, performance,
performativity or just ‘doing/being’.
According to the epistemological standpoint of the researcher the purpose
of research may be to obtain the objective (essential) ‘truth’ about partic-
ular events or it may be to understand how particular research participants
construct and interpret their stories (Franklin, 1997). The methodology asso-
ciated with the quest for objective truth is positivist and characterized by
Franklin (1997, pp. 100–101) as ‘information extraction’. The interviewer is
the catalyst for the emergence of ‘truth’ from the interviewee. This approach
to interviewing is ‘monological’ in both its epistemological perspective and
in its practical orientation (Shotter, 1993). The ‘voice’ of the research partic-
ipant emerges without the researcher ostensibly having much of an active
role. This of course cannot happen if both parties are together in the
same space. The embodied presence of a researcher (particularly her/his
sex) prompts the research participants to make assumptions about how
the conversation may be conducted (see the discussion of Coates, 2003,
below). By recognizing that two or more people are engaged in an interview,
dialogical approaches incorporate the necessity to theorize the role of the
interviewer in the creation of knowledge (Shotter, 1993): the conversation
of the parties creates what is being discussed. Dialogic approaches to qualita-
tive data collection require careful reflection on what is being created in the
interview; this requires contemplation on how the interviewer contributes to
the process (Lalor et al., 2006).
Central to this is the way in which language use is understood.
In ‘dialogical’ approaches, language is seen as constructive: the conversa-
tion of the parties creates what is being discussed (Shotter, 1993). Language
no longer represents something outside of the speakers (for example, the
true story of what the offender ‘did’); the dialogic exchange is creative
and constructive. And, of course, this process occurs within and as part
of social and cultural influences. Here the later work of the philosopher
Ludwig Wittgenstein is helpful in identifying and reflecting on the con-
structive processes that occur in qualitative research with violent men. For
Wittgenstein (1953), language is not a system of symbols representing an
outer world; it is an active and changing system in use. Within conver-
sation, Wittgenstein (1953) suggests, participants are inevitably engaged
in a variety of ways of speaking (language games) that emanate from a
variety of ways of being (forms of life). Conversation in all contexts fol-
lows a number of unexpressed but implicitly followed rules/conventions
(language games). However, language games are not merely rules for the con-
duct of conversation; they are rooted in and emerge from various contexts
within cultures. Wittgenstein called these contexts ‘forms of life’ (McGinn,
1997, p. 51).
Forms of life are ways of being located in and part of various cultures
and sub cultures. The forms of life and associated language games that are
relevant to this chapter relate to being a man. It is recognized that being
a man can be different according to age, ethnicity, class, sexuality, faith
and (dis)ability. These intersecting identities (Walby et al., 2012) may affect
how men talk together (to date this is an under-researched area); however,
gendered recognition in particular appears to prompt certain assumptions
when men talk to each other. In the context of qualitative research, partic-
ularly men researching violent men, further examination of these language
games is essential (see, for example, Kahn et al.’s 2011 exploration of young
men in a youth team working to prevent domestic violence).
Qualitative research is underpinned by the relationship of the researcher
to the research participant, and it is through this relationship that the
research data is co-created (Connolly and Reilly, 2007). However, the rela-
tionship is not preformed and it does not ‘just happen’. It requires recogni-
tion of power differentials and the building of non-hierarchical relationships
between researcher and researched (Connolly and Reilly, 2007). Key to devel-
oping this relationship are trust, rapport and empathy. These qualities do
not exist in a cultural vacuum, but as Connolly and Reilly (2007, p. 533)
observe, are
. . . governed and influenced by aspects of relational culture in which

the social interaction is embedded: the implicit norms and shared sym-
bols that manage and give meaning to all relationships. When we as
researchers engage in conversation, we carry with us the expectations that
we all bring to meaningful and delicate dialogue.
However, these norms and expectations are not always common to all
groups, and in researching the violence of men, it is important that val-
ues and attitudes are subjected to scrutiny before/as they become part of the
developing research relationship. An issue for men researching violent men
is not to develop uncritically a research relationship that may be unwittingly
collusive with attitudes and values that support violence, but to remain open
and aware of issues that may require challenge, while also developing a pro-
ductive research relationship. Thus the position for the male researcher is
not one of unconditional positive regard but, as Hearn (1998) suggests, criti-
cally reflexive. This includes examination of both content and process issues
in the production of research.
Male language games and the emotional framing

of qualitative data ‘collection’
Many commentators on men and masculinity have highlighted the nature

of how men misogynistically talk together to consolidate and develop their
Malcolm Cowburn 187
relationships (Mac an Ghaill, 1994; Flood, 2008). From her analysis of 32

all-male conversations, Coates (2003, p. 196) notes:
One of the most striking features of the men’s talk . . . is its orientation to
the hegemonic norms of masculinity. In most of the conversations most
of the time, it is evident that male speakers are acting in a way that aligns
them with these dominant norms, norms which prescribe ‘acceptable’
maleness. This dominant mode of ‘being a man’ is typically associated
with ‘heterosexuality, toughness, power and authority, competitiveness
and subordination of gay men’ . . .
The language games associated with heterosexuality, toughness and power

may occur in qualitative research with (violent) men regardless of the gender
of the researcher. However, where the researcher and the research participant
are both men, it is likely that invitations to participate in these language
games will be more common. To refer again to Coates’ (2003, p. 197) work,
she notes how the data from qualitative work produced by male researchers
interviewing men in a variety of contexts was significantly different to her
own work in interviewing men:
These research projects involved men talking in the ‘locker room’ before
and after sporting events, boys talking about sex, men meeting for a drink
and a chat and men talking about drink and violence . . . Much of this
material is more sexist and homophobic than anything I have collected.
For example, the men’s talk in my data-base does not involve explicit talk
about men’s genitalia . . . sustained talk about women in terms of body
parts . . . or fantasies about rape . . .
The language games in which male researchers and male research partici-
pants engage are clearly different and they produce very different research
data. Coates (2003, p. 197) reflects on this:
Does this mean that male speakers censor themselves unconsciously

when the researcher is female? Alternatively, it could suggest that men
are more constrained by the hegemonic norms when designing their talk
for the ears of a male researcher. Certainly, the more ‘macho’ elements
of hegemonic masculinity are more in evidence in data collected by male
researchers, just as they are more in evidence in my data in the all-male
conversations than in the mixed conversations.
What is emerging here is a clear indication that the gender of the researcher
and the research participant are both important in determining the subse-
quent nature of the research conversation. The issue for profeminist men
researching male violence is how to sustain a research project without
participating in misogynistic and homophobic male language games. This

is, however, difficult and certainly poses questions as to how the male
researcher enables qualitative research to proceed. In many ways, the issue
is: how does the male researcher respond to an invitation to participate in
a sexist/homophobic conversation without compromising either his values
(assuming that he is anti-sexist and anti-homophobic) or the continuance of
the research project? Blagden and Pemberton (2010, p. 273) vividly describe
one such difficulty experienced by a male researcher:
. . . in one interview the participant was recalling his account of the

offence and he offered the justification that the offence was not rape, but
‘rough sex’. This was followed by the disclaimer: ‘all men like rough sex’
and then the tag question: ‘you can’t tell me you don’t like rough sex?
Come on be honest’. This was an uncomfortable moment and one where
the male researcher’s values were the object of the interview. It was vital
here not to subscribe or fall victim to his attempts to justify his account;
and the subject was changed.
Changing the subject is not always an option or the best strategy to adopt;
elsewhere (Cowburn, 2006, 2007) I describe other strategies. For example,
in a life-history research interview where close relationships were being dis-
cussed, a male research participant said, ‘You know what women are like’, to
which I replied ‘No, what are they like?’ This strategy avoids collusion and
provides more data about the participant and his attitudes.
The account, so far, of male language games has primarily addressed
cognitive issues. Assumptions about shared interpretations are tested, con-
solidated or rejected in participating (or not) in various language games.
However, the process is not only cognitive; communication and particularly
dialogic communication is underpinned by an emotional need to connect
with another person. Ezzy (2010, p. 169) has pointed to the shortcom-
ings of the ‘dispassionate’, ostensibly objective, stance adopted by some
researchers engaged in qualitative inquiry. Such a stance, he suggests, deper-
sonalizes research participants and turns them into ‘objects’ of inquiry.
As such they are passive participants from whom information is extracted
(Franklin, 1997). For Ezzy (2010), this approach to interviewing people is
‘conquest’ – the interviewer conquers the interviewee and extracts data for
analysis. A more productive approach to interviewing, suggested by Ezzy
(2010), is to view interviews as acts of ‘communion’. This approach makes
demands of both the researcher and the researched; it ‘requires mutual recog-
nition, which acknowledges the interdependence of the researcher and the
researched’ (Ezzy, 2010, p. 169). It generates a different way of hearing the
research participant:
To be able to listen to the Other, to know and understand the experiences

of people studied by social researchers, is also to engage in an emotional
Malcolm Cowburn 189
relationship. Careful reflection on the emotional framing of the interview

is an important part of good interviewing.
(Ezzy, 2010, p. 169)
In undertaking research with men who have acted violently to others, the
emotional ‘framing’ is of fundamental importance. It is in many ways similar
to recognizing the theoretical and ideological components of the standpoint
from which a researcher approaches his study. It requires rigorous examina-
tion of feelings generated by the acts of violence and the man committing
those acts. The feelings are not immutable and may change as interviews
develop; the key issue is to be aware of them and how they interact with
theoretical issues. For example, I (Cowburn, 2010) describe a situation where
a research participant, remembering his neglectful and abusive childhood,
became distressed; my impulse was to offer emotional and caring support.
However, the constraints of a positivistic approach to social science and
concerns about ‘contaminating’ the data prevented me from emotionally
reaching out to the distressed man. Clearer exploration of epistemological
and emotional frames governing the research may have enabled me to offer
an ethically caring response.
Ezzy (2010, p. 163) suggests that the demands of scientific inquiry may
seriously affect the quality of interview-based research:
Qualitative researchers conducting interviews typically focus on the cog-

nitively articulated aspects of the interview, exemplified in the focus on
constructing a theme list of cognitively articulated questions, record-
ing the audible spoken parts of the interview and analysing the textual
transcriptions of interviews. Each of these elides the significance of the
emotional, embodied, performed aspects of the interview.
Denial of emotion by male interviewers researching violent men produces

data that denies emotion. This is unfortunate, if not perverse, for research
into an area that is charged with emotion: the violence of men. Ezzy
(2010, p. 168), again, comments on the importance of researchers being
emotionally attuned and engaged during interviews:
The more an interview is performed emotionally as communion rather

than conquest, the more likely it is that the interview will result in the
voice of the Other . . . being heard . . . . It is not only the interviewee’s cog-
nitively articulated sense of self, and the story they tell, that is co-created,
but it is also the emotional framing of the story that is co-created, shaped
by the emotional stances of the interviewer and interviewee.
However, emotional engagement in qualitative work with violent men

should go beyond engagement with the man being interviewed.
Interpersonal violence has victims as well as perpetrators. I suggest that emo-

tional engagement with the (absent) victim is essential for a researcher to
understand fully what a perpetrator says of his violence. This does not nec-
essarily require in-depth research into the particular victim(s)’ experiences;
it does, however, require the researcher to be mindful of the person who was
hurt by the violence. The quotation from Blagden and Pemberton (2010)
earlier in this section illustrates the presence of the victims in perpetrator
narratives. In an earlier paper (Cowburn, 2007, pp. 284–285), I described
how a sex offender’s narrative of his offending, in which he blamed his
victims for the offences, eventually prompted a challenging response from
me as the researcher. Emotional engagement with violent men in research
requires this additional component, otherwise it is in danger of being
a collusive engagement that ignores or denies the violence done to the
victim(s).
Ethical and practical implications of emotional engagement
Emotional engagement in qualitative research interviews does not just hap-

pen. It involves building trust and developing rapport that enables research
participants to share deeply personal issues (Lalor et al., 2006, p. 610). This
is particularly difficult when the topic of research is sensitive (Liamputtong,
2007), and researching men who are violent involves the recognition and
negotiation of many sensitive issues. However, the processes of emotional
engagement also carry a number of implications that require further con-
sideration or reflection. These issues are primarily concerned with the
prevention of harm to research participants and/or other people.
It is a characteristic of qualitative interviews that they often last a long
time. In this time, particularly if both participants are emotionally engaged,
trust and rapport develop. As trust develops research participants may
disclose harmful intentions to themselves or other specifically identified
people or organizations. It is essential that researchers have identified how
such disclosures will be dealt with, in advance of hearing them for the
first time. Traditionally, particularly in early sociological and criminological
research participants have been given assurances that everything that is said
will be totally confidential (Cowburn, 2005). Such blanket guarantees may
build trust with research participants but they may also prevent researchers
from protecting identified people/organizations from the expressed harm-
ful intent of research participants. This situation is not ethically acceptable
(Cowburn, 2005) and researchers need to explain to research participants
at the beginning of interviews how disclosures of harmful intent to self or
other specifically identified targets (people or organizations) will be dealt
with (for example, ‘everything we talk about is confidential except if you
disclose intentions to harm yourself, other specifically identified people or
a particular organization. In the case of such disclosures, these matters will
Malcolm Cowburn 191
be referred to appropriate authorities’). In relation to this issue, researchers

may also decide to ‘warn’ research participants if they are moving into an
area that would necessitate reporting. Discussing these issues openly before
an interview begins shows the research participant that the researcher is
concerned about him and that the research relationship is not one without
boundaries.
The management of distress of the research participant during interviews
has already been mentioned above. The impact of a positivistic epistemol-
ogy may prevent researchers from responding in a fully caring manner (Lalor
et al., 2006; Cowburn, 2010). Reflecting on these issues before and during
qualitative research may help to ensure that the well-being of research par-
ticipants is protected (Lalor et al., 2006). For example, a way of showing
concern for the research participant is to recognize that in-depth interviews
may provoke memories that are distressing and to ask the participant to
identify a source of support that could be contacted should he become
distressed.
Apart from the well-being of participants it is also important to con-
sider that of the research team. Research teams may be as small as a lone
researcher, but they may also include research assistants, transcribers and
supervisors (Lalor et al., 2006). Emotionally engaged research may produce
more in-depth and detailed data, but the cost of such engagement on the
researcher(s) may be high. This is likely to be the case in research with vio-
lent men. Listening to accounts of violence experienced and perpetrated by
men is emotionally demanding on the researcher (Cowburn, 2007), the peo-
ple transcribing the interviews (Cowburn, 2002; Lalor et al., 2006), and the
people offering support to the research team although these impacts may
vary according to the identities (for example, gender, ethnicity and age) and
experience of the workers concerned. In the interests of doing no harm, it is
essential that appropriate supports for everyone are identified. These issues
are discussed in the final section of this chapter.
Reflecting on the personal impacts on men of researching

violent men
. . . entering into a co-construction of a shared reality means that
the researcher in effect becomes an ‘I-witness’, observing firsthand
the effects of the trauma on a person she or he has come to know
and trust. The researcher becomes a container of, and envoy for the
experiences and meanings of the research participant.
(Connolly and Reilly, 2007, pp. 533–534)
Although Connolly and Reilly (2007) are discussing issues in relation to

studying the effects of trauma, their observations are very pertinent: male
violence is traumatic. The researcher potentially ‘contains’ at least three trau-
mas in researching violent men: violence experienced by the men in their
childhood and beyond; the violence of their offences; and the violence as
experienced by the victims. Depending on the type of research being under-
taken men may tell their life stories; often such stories feature harsh and
violent childhoods. Retelling their experiences can be distressing and the dis-
tress may be absorbed by the researcher (Connolly and Reilly, 2007). Should
the research investigate the detail of violent offending, the impact of telling
and hearing is also coupled with potential impacts of the violence on vic-
tims. The detail of planning, executing and reflecting on an act of violence
has an immense emotional impact in itself. Being aware of the victim within
the story is an additional dimension of trauma for the researcher to process.
Hesse (2002) has highlighted ‘vicarious trauma’ as being a feature experi-
enced by therapists. Connolly and Reilly (2007, p. 529) suggest that this
may also apply to those researching traumatic events, as Connolly explains
in terms of her own experience:
I became the repository for the participant’s emotions and feelings and
in some instances, I was the sole person to hear the narrative. Unlike
a psychotherapist who first hears and then assists the traumatized victim
to navigate her or his recovery process, I heard their experiences and then
was left to hold or bear their stories.
In some cases immersion into traumatic experiences leads to what Figley

(1995) calls ‘compassion fatigue’ – an inability to feel for the pain of others.
It may be that Andrea Dworkin (1981) was suffering from a variant of this
after completing her extensive research into pornography. Reflecting on the
personal impact of her study, she notes: ‘But the worst effect on me was
a generalized misanthropy: I could no longer trust anyone’s enthusiasms,
intellectual, sexual, aesthetic, political’ (Dworkin, 1981, p. 304).
These impacts on the researcher may also be transferred to people who
read research and listen to conference presentations. Consideration of pre-
senting material that may have a negative emotional impact has been little
addressed in the research literature, yet in the case of qualitative research
into the violence of men this is a pertinent issue.
Disseminating research on violent men: The challenge

of presentation
Qualitative research can co-create graphic descriptions of unpleasant and
offensive thoughts and behaviours; such descriptions both provide infor-
mation and cause affect. On the assumption that research participants’
identities are concealed, the major ethical issue for researchers to resolve
is what data to include in papers and presentations. In many ways this is
an ethical choice involving consideration of (a) a utilitarian perspective that
suggests the greater knowledge available is for the greater good; (b) a Kantian
perspective that may consider that presenting stark details of violence is
Malcolm Cowburn 193
disrespectful to victims; and (c) an ethic of care perspective that would con-
sider the emotional impact of research data on people who read, hear or see
the data presented.
For example, does the detailed presentation of racist or homophobic atti-
tudes/violence enhance general understanding or (re)offend and (re)harm
particular groups? The answer to this question is, probably, ‘both’. How-
ever, in relation to understanding interpersonal violence, is it appropriate to
present the ‘voice’ of the offender, without additional comment, describing
his offences? It could be argued that to do so gives insight into violent men,
but, equally, it could be argued that merely to present the offender’s account
is to deny or ignore the experience of victims. Moreover, to present graphic
detail of offences without adequate explanation and justification may be
experienced as offensive or distressing.
Whatever decision is made in relation to the presentation of data, it
should be clear to the reader and/or the audience what sort of material
is being presented. Furthermore, there should be a clear rationale as to
why graphic material is necessary. This may help researchers to reflect on
whether the presentation of data is necessary or possibly merely gratuitous
or sensationalist.
Implications for the research practice of men
This final section draws together the material of the chapter and considers
the implications for the research practice of men researching violent men.
These issues may be described broadly as epistemological, emotional and
practical. Inevitably, these divisions are artificial and some issues will cross
the imposed boundaries.
The chapter opened by emphasizing the need for male researchers under-
taking qualitative research with violent men to reflect on the epistemology
underpinning their practice. It was suggested that a positivist approach was
inadequate to understanding the meanings and motivations of violent men.
This therefore requires researchers to adopt a constructionist perspective and
reflect on their own contribution in co-creating interview data. In doing this,
it was suggested that researchers should adopt the epistemological position
of ‘critique’ suggested by Hearn (1998). This requires male researchers to
reflexively locate themselves, their values, ideologies and emotions in the
research process at all stages. The male researcher is actively implicated in
the data produced from interviewing violent men. One key area highlighted
was how men talk to each other. The language games of men are not ‘nat-
ural’ products of men being together; they are habitual patterned ways of
talking that reflect certain (sub)cultural ways of being (‘forms of life’). The
task for the male researcher is to be actively present in the male language
games of research involving violent men and to resist invitations to partici-
pate in misogynistic, homophobic and other offensive types of speech that
denigrate others. Resistance, however, needs to be constructive in maintain-

ing the engagement of the research participant. One way of retaining this
engagement is through being emotionally engaged in the qualitative data
collection process.
Emotional engagement in the qualitative interview is recognized as a key
component in actively engaging research participants. However, it is some-
thing that needs to be prepared for and requires researchers to think about
the violent men, their violence(s) and the victims that they have harmed.
Detailed exploration of these aspects of the research will enable the male
researcher to more openly engage in qualitative interviews. Recognition of
his own emotional response will help the researcher to recognize emotions
in the men that he interviews. For example, I have interviewed a num-
ber of men, during life-history research, who described their childhoods as
idyllic, and their parents as ‘the best Mum and Dad in the world’. During
these sessions, I was left feeling desolate as the interviewees related expe-
riences of childhood neglect and abuse but characterized their parents as
‘loving’. I was able to reflect to them that their story left me feeling sad
for them as a child. This enabled them to acknowledge their own sadness
about their history, but it did not move them to naming their parents as
hurtful.
However, emotional engagement carries a number of costs to the
researcher and to other people involved in the research process. The
following strategies have been identified as ways of addressing these issues:
• Journaling (Lalor et al., 2006) engages the researcher in reflecting on what

is happening in the research. It is an ongoing process and can start at
the beginning of a project. A journal can record thoughts, feelings and
actions and reflections thereon.
• Supporting transcribers in typing ‘difficult and sensitive’ material. During
some life-history research with sex offenders, I made arrangements for the
transcribers to be supported by a female colleague if they wished to talk
about the impact of the work. They told me that unlike the researcher
they had the option of stopping the tape and returning to it. Thus, as one
response, they typed difficult material in short time spaces. However, this
is an issue that requires recognition and an appropriate response (Lalor
et al., 2006).
• Support from an informed and experienced colleague. This person may
be a formally recognized supervisor, a contracted counsellor or an infor-
mal associate. Key to the relationship is the ability of the researcher
to speak openly about their emotional responses and ethical dilemmas.
Sometimes someone outside of the researcher’s employment sphere may
be more appropriate. Sometimes ‘insider’ knowledge is an essential qual-
ity that does not necessitate the researcher explaining contextual issues
(Lalor et al., 2006; Connolly and Reilly, 2007). The issue of whether the
Malcolm Cowburn 195
supervisor and researcher are of the same sex, ethnicity, age or other key
identity variable will need open discussion.
• Clear research information that outlines the boundaries of confidentiality
and what will happen if a research participant indicates that they are a
risk to themselves or others (Cowburn, 2005).
This list is not exhaustive. Men researching male violence is an important

area of research that will bring its own distinctive findings (Coates, 2003)
particularly if it is undertaken critically and reflexively and with appropriate
support.
References
Blagden, N. and S. Pemberton (2010) ‘The Challenge of Conducting Qualitative
Research with Convicted Sex Offenders’, The Howard Journal, 49, 269–281.
Burr, V. (2003) Social Constructionism, 2nd edn (Hove: Routledge).
Clatterbaugh, K. (1998) ‘What Is Problematic about Masculinities?’, Men and
Coates, J. (2003) Men Talk: Stories in the Making of Masculinities (Malden, MA: Blackwell
Publishing).
Connolly, K. and R.C. Reilly (2007) ‘Emergent Issues when Researching Trauma:
A Confessional Tale’, Qualitative Inquiry, 13, 522–540.
Cowburn, M. (2002) ‘Men and Violence: Life Hi/stories of Male Sex Offenders’,
unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Sheffield, Sheffield.
Cowburn, M. (2005) ‘Confidentiality and Public Protection: Ethical Dilemmas in Qual-
itative Research with Adult Male Sex Offenders’, Journal of Sexual Aggression, 11,
49–63.
Cowburn, M. (2006) ‘Constructive Work with Male Sex Offenders: Male Forms of Life,
Language Games and Change’ in K. Gorman, M. Gregory, M. Hayles and N. Parton
(eds) Constructive Work with Offenders (London: Jessica Kingsley).
Research’, Howard Journal, 46, 276–288.
Cowburn, M. (2010) ‘Principles, Virtues and Care: Ethical Dilemmas in Research with
Male Sex Offenders’, Psychology Crime and Law, 16, 65–74.
Dworkin, A. (1981) Pornography: Men Possessing Women (London: The Women’s Press).
Ezzy, D. (2010) ‘Qualitative Interviewing as an Embodied Emotional Performance’,
Qualitative Inquiry, 16, 163–170.
Figley, C. (1995) Compassion Fatigue: Coping with Secondary Trauma Stress Disorder in
Those Who Treat the Traumatized (New York: Brunner/Mazel).
Flood, M. (2008) ‘Men, Sex and Homosociality: How Bonds Between Men Shape Their
Sexual Relations with Women’, Men and Masculinities, 10, 339–359.
Franklin, M.B. (1997) ‘Making Sense: Interviewing and Narrative Representation’ in
M.M. Gergen and S.N. Davis (eds) Toward a New Psychology of Gender (London:
Routledge).
Harding, S. (1991) Whose Science? Whose Knowledge? Thinking from Women’s Lives
(Milton Keynes: Open University Press).
Hearn, J. (1998) ‘Theorizing Men and Men’s Theorizing: Varieties of Discursive
Practices in Men’s Theorizing of Men’, Theory and Society, 27, 781–816.
Hesse, A. (2002) ‘Secondary Trauma: How Working with Trauma Survivors Affects
Therapists’, Clinical Social Work Journal, 30, 293–309.
Kahn, J.S., J.R. Holmes and B.L. Brett (2011) ‘Dialogical Masculinities: Diverse Youth
Resisting Dominant Masculinity’, Journal of Constructivist Psychology, 24, 30–55.
Lalor, J.G., C.M. Begley and D. Devane (2006) ‘Exploring Painful Experiences: Impact
of Emotional Narratives on Members of a Qualitative Research Team’, Journal of
Advanced Nursing, 56, 607–616.
Liamputtong, P. (2007) Researching the Vulnerable: A Guide to Sensitive Research Methods
(London: Sage).
Mac an Ghaill, M. (1994) The Making of Men: Masculinities, Sexualities, and Schooling
(Buckingham: Open University).
McGinn, M. (1997) Wittgenstein and the Philosophical Investigations (London:
Routledge).
OED (2012) Oxford English Dictionary, http://www.oed.com (third edition), date
accessed 1 May 2012.
Shotter, J. (1993) Conversational Realities: Constructing Life through Language (London:
Sage).
Walby, S., J. Armstrong and S. Strid (2012) ‘Intersectionality: Multiple Inequalities in
Social Theory’, Sociology, 46, 224–240.
Wittgenstein, L. (1953) Philosophical Investigations, 1997 edn (Oxford: Blackwell).
15
Encountering Violent Men:
Strange and Familiar
Lucas Gottzén
Introduction
As a graduate student at an interdisciplinary research institute, I learned two

essential methodological approaches in qualitative research. Ethnomethod-
ologists said that the task of research is to make the familiar strange, while
anthropologists argued that the aim of ethnography is to make the strange
familiar.
The idea of making the familiar strange – to defamiliarize – has in the
social sciences mainly been associated with Harold Garfinkel’s (1967) stud-
ies of the mundane and familiar. He argued that social life is made up of a
series of conventional rules for talk and interaction. Following Garfinkel,
ethnomethodologists have shown how gender is accomplished in every-
day life (West and Zimmerman, 1987). By considering day-to-day practices
through the eyes of a stranger, the researcher can give a new perspective to
the taken for granted ways of ‘being a man’.
Anthropologists have had a different methodological approach: to famil-
iarize the strange. This is traditionally carried out by spending time in a
foreign culture. By using your outsider role – to be a ‘professional stranger’
(Agar, 1996) – the aim is to capture an emic perspective; that is, to present
the participants’ own understanding of their lives. Through this approach, it
is possible to show the familiarity in what at first glance may seem strange.
Anthropologists have sometimes suggested that foreign cultures have better
ways of ‘doing gender’. Among the Pygmies of Central Africa, Barry Hewlett
(1991), for instance, found that men often carried their young children and
thus had more intimate knowledge of their lives than men in many Western
cultures.
Inspired by these two traditions, I set out to study something that may
seem very common, namely middle-class fathers. These men’s child-centred
everyday lives constitute something of the norm of ‘good’ fatherhood, but
partly due to my age and class background, I was not entirely acquainted
with it. The aims of my research then became to first learn about these
197
198 Encountering Violent Men: Strange and Familiar
strangers and then problematize this middle-class utopia through a critical

distance to the involved fathers (Gottzén, 2011; Gottzén and Kremer-Sadlik,
2012).
I brought with me the same methodological principles when I later on
started researching violent men. Similarly to the middle-class fathers, my
encounters with these violent men could be said to be characterized by
tensions between the strange and the familiar. But while involved fathers
(particularly if they orient to gender equality) come fairly close to my and
other (pro)feminist researchers’ ideals, men who have been violent towards
women are more or less the antithesis of the gender-equal man. Feminist
research and activism have spent decades in the struggle against patriarchy,
and shown that it is particularly expressed through men’s control of, and
violence against, women. As part of the feminist movement, it is rightly
argued that Critical Studies of Men and Masculinities should side with the
victim while being critical of the offender and to avoid colluding with him
(Cavanagh and Lewis, 1996; Cowburn, 2007; McCarry, 2007). This unmiti-
gated support for the victim and against oppression of women also includes
a distance to and, at times, a repudiation of the violent man.
The dilemma, at least in a Swedish context, is that the violent man is
not only ‘the Other’ of the (pro)feminist researcher, but that certain violent
men are stigmatized by people in general. My and other researchers’ experi-
ence is that most men, including those who have been violent to other men
(for example, robbery or assault), maintain that violence against women is
morally reprehensible and that rapists and ‘woman batterers’ deserve to get
beaten up (Andersson, 2007; Gottzén, forthcoming). The woman batterer
deviates from cultural norms of masculinity while paradoxically embodying
male dominance through his control of women. The challenge for criti-
cal masculinity researchers is therefore to highlight and criticize violence
against women, while realizing that we tend to end up on the same side as
the condemners that through an individualization of men’s violence depict
these men as monsters. For this, an intersectional approach is crucial since
it helps us to analyse how men can be simultaneously positioned in relation
to different power structures (Flood and Pease, 2005). Violent men could be
understood as dominating women while they may also be structurally sub-
ordinated to other men and women, including researchers, depending on
class, race, ethnicity, age and other social positions.
This chapter discusses how to conduct research in relation to the ambiva-
lent position of violent men. It draws on data from a larger qualitative study
of men who have used violence in intimate relationships. Between 2009 and
2012, I interviewed 47 men (17–66 years of age) who participated in batterer
intervention programs at five different treatment centres in Sweden. For the
sake of anonymity, all names have been fictionalized.
I argue that the research process can be understood as an encounter placed
in the cultural and methodological tension between the strange and the
Lucas Gottzén 199
familiar. In line with other (pro)feminist researchers (Cavanagh and Lewis,

1996; Cowburn, 2007), I think we need to be critical of violent men, but in
order to attain greater knowledge about men’s violence we also need to listen
to their stories and their meaning making (Hydén, forthcoming). The risk of
listening to the perpetrators is that we could reinforce their minimization
of their violent behaviour. But one-sided critique or defamiliarization of vio-
lent men may present them as unintelligible. I believe such estrangement is
unhelpful when working against violence against women, particularly when
trying to change men’s behaviour. We need to move beyond this binary posi-
tioning of violent men as either strange or familiar, and avoid ending up in
either only critiquing or colluding with them. A possible way forward, I pro-
pose, is to understand the encounter as a temporary fixation of men, and
reflect on how this positioning produces our understanding of informants
as well as researchers.
Stranger fetishism
The stranger may not have been central, but has definitely been a recur-
ring figure in social and feminist theory (Schütz, 1944; Kristeva, 1991) since
Georg Simmel’s (1908) classic essay. According to Simmel (1908, p. 188),
the stranger is a contradictory figure: he is ‘near and far at the same time’.
The stranger is not completely excluded from the community, but part of
the group while to some extent on the outside. If the stranger would be
completely excluded and not recognizable, Simmel argues it would rather be
characterized as a non-relationship. It is in this tension between being part
of the group, but to some extent an outsider, that ‘strangeness’ is produced.
In Strange Encounters Sara Ahmed (2000) develops this idea of the stranger’s
ambivalent social position. The stranger is, according to Ahmed, someone
we have already recognized the moment we see him. Strangers are not the
ones that are misrecognized in a particular area, but those in our neighbour-
hood that have already been recognized as not belonging, as being ‘out of
place’ (Ahmed, 2000, p. 21). Ahmed reinterprets Althusser’s (1971) interpel-
lation model, where the policeman hails a person on the street, and argues
that recognition is crucial in this process of subjectivation. She imagines that
the policeman’s hailing alters depending on who is addressed, and how and
what this person is recognized as. The hailing as a form of recognition that
constitutes the subject can thus serve as a way to differentiate between sub-
jects, by addressing ‘suspicious’ and ‘familiar’ differently. By pointing out
strangers we also say something about who we think belongs to us; recogni-
tion of strangers produces what and who ‘we’ are. However, Ahmed (2000)
argues that the stranger is often fetishized, in that social relationships and
processes underlying estrangement are obscured, in particular processes of
inclusion and exclusion; that is, why and how some are acknowledged as
belonging and others are (mis)recognized. As a product of neoliberalism,
stranger fetishism portrays the violent man as a free-willed actor unaffected

by social relations of patriarchy and other social divisions.
In order to move beyond stranger fetishism, we need to approach the
stranger in an encounter. While stranger fetishism tries to stabilize the
stranger’s ontology, what or who the stranger is, Ahmed argues that focusing
on encounters allows us to understand the stranger as someone who exists
beyond the meeting. That he is more than the subject positions enabled in
the given moment. This has implications for (pro)feminist activists, social
workers and researchers working with men perceived as deviant.
The researcher’s vulnerability when facing violent men
Like most researchers entering a new field, I prepared myself for my

encounter with violent men by reading other researchers’ experiences. Given
that men’s violence is a relatively established research field, surprisingly
few have discussed their experiences of conducting research with violent
men (but see Cavanagh and Lewis, 1996; Lee, 1997; Gadd, 2004; Presser,
2005; Cowburn, 2007). Female researchers who reflect on their research with
violent men have often presented negative experiences and exposure to
physical danger. For instance, when Deborah Lee (1997) interviewed men
about workplace harassment she experienced sexual advances reminiscent
of how the respondents had acted towards female colleagues.
Also in studies that seemed to have little to do with men’s violence or sex-
ual harassment, I learned about how male respondents intimidated female
researchers by sexist comments, threats or sexual advances (Pini, 2005; Sharp
and Kremer, 2006). Some female researchers have also experienced physi-
cal violence. For instance, Terry Arendell (1997) was exposed to violence by
one of her participants in a study on fatherhood. During an interview, they
started to talk about how he had assaulted his wife. When recalling how
he tried to strangle her, he thrust himself over the table and put his hand
around the researcher’s neck. He continued to hold it there, becoming louder
and more excited. Once he let go of her, he pointed his finger at Arendell,
as if she was his wife, and told her that she was not allowed to make him
upset again. One might think that male researchers are safer in the field, but
they have also experienced vulnerability when interviewing abusive men.
David Gadd (2004), for example, describes an interview in the home of an
offender where the informant disappears into the kitchen and then comes
back approaching him with a knife in his hand. First, Gadd thinks of how to
escape, but instead decides to calm him.
As a result of these and similar experiences, feminist researchers –
particularly those researching violent men – have developed safety proce-
dures, such as conducting interviews in public places (Arendell, 1997). Male
researchers interviewing men with a history of violence against women have
taken similar precautions (Hearn, 1998; Gadd, 2004). In my fieldwork I rarely
Lucas Gottzén 201
felt vulnerable, which in part had to do with the interviews being conducted
at the various treatment centres I collaborated with. Usually, there were at
least one or two therapists on the premises during the interviews. The treat-
ment centre was also a place where the man felt relatively comfortable, since
he had participated in the program for some time. A few times the interviews
were conducted in the evenings after the staff had gone home. I could have
felt vulnerable at these occasions, but it was rather during some interviews
conducted in the daytime (and with staff on site) that I experienced men as
threatening.
One case was during an interview with 26-year-old Henrik, who was a
drug addict. I do not think he was ‘high’ when I met him, but he told me
that he had recently been charged with drug possession and was waiting
for his sentence. During the interview he spoke intensely as we sat close to
each other in the therapist’s tiny office. It was difficult to communicate with
him, which I presume was partly due to his addiction. On several occasions
when he did not agree with me, or talked about someone that upset him,
he got enraged, sat up in his chair, waved his arms, talked louder and stared
intensely at me. I was afraid that he would direct his anger at me, so I became
careful not to pose any more questions that could be experienced by him as
provoking. And it was a comfort to know that there were people in the offices
next door.
Safety precautions are often necessary, and it would be naive to think that
it is not dangerous to interview violent men, as others’ and my experiences
suggest. However, putting safety measures into effect can produce certain
consequences. I would argue that while the researcher is protected, precau-
tions identify the informant as threatening and dangerous in advance. He
is already recognized as a violent man. This prior positioning is somewhat
contradictory to feminist research that has shown how abusers often are
controlled and calculated in their violence, and want to present themselves
as ‘good’ men to others and keep their violence in private (Hearn, 1998).
Moreover, there is a risk that the informant does not feel confident enough
to open up and share his experiences if he has been recognized as threaten-
ing, since it may be a definition he does not want to embrace (Gadd, 2004).
While our gaze attempts to define him as a violent man, we must realize, if
following Ahmed (2000), that the interviewee is more than the temporary
fixation at the interview.
I had reason to change my opinion about Henrik when, more than a year
after the interview, I contacted him again. He was now calm, friendly, com-
pliant and not as aggressive as at our first encounter. This was probably
due to the fact that he had been ‘clean’ for about a year. I cannot (and
do not want to) say anything about whether Henrik had ‘really’ become
less aggressive in his close relationships, but the two encounters with him
were radically different. While after the first interview I saw him as some-
thing of an archetypical violent addict, I had to re-evaluate my opinion after
our second encounter. One could also understand the difference of the two
meetings in relation to the fact that at the latter, I positioned him as an
acquaintance that could help me (to get in contact with another informant),
while at the first meeting I interviewed him as an offender.
Violent men as strangers
I must admit that I had many prejudices before starting my fieldwork. The
fact is that I was to some extent drawn to the subject because violence against
women was strange to me. I had some prior understanding of domestic abuse
through my limited reading of feminist and social science research, as well as
from what I had heard from friends involved in the women’s shelter move-
ment. But I was particularly influenced by media representations of woman
batterers, where they often were more or less portrayed as monsters.
Depicting violent offenders as monstrous can be understood as a form of
stranger fetishism. According to Ahmed (2000), the most monstrous violent
man is probably the paedophile. He is a stranger that has to be excluded
from our neighbourhoods in order to keep our children safe (Ahmed, 2000).
Paedophiles are dangerous figures considered to come from outside the fam-
ily, which obscures the fact that relatives and acquaintances are conducting
most child sexual abuse. The woman batterer can be understood in a simi-
lar fashion: he is a ‘monster underneath’, a stranger passing as a husband,
father and lover instead of being understood as ‘a husband exercising the
power that is already legitimated through hegemonic forms of masculinity’
(Ahmed, 2000, p. 36). The violent man is in other words a stranger who
infringes the ideal home. He is not seen as a part of everyday, patriarchal
relations.
One of the first things that struck me when I started talking with the
men was that they had more or less the same understanding of the violent
offender. They all saw violence against women as morally reprehensible and
something that was carried out by cold and brutal perpetrators against pas-
sive and vulnerable victims. They did not, however, recognize themselves
in this category. Many men told me that they had beaten their girlfriends
for a long period of time before ‘realizing’ that they had been violent. This
insight can be said to be an encounter with the woman batterer as a radically
strange man. Filip, 26 years old, says:
Since woman battering is sort a pretty charged word sort of and it’s really
negatively charged and I thought more like ‘fuck’. It was like the sense of
looking down a precipice you know. ‘Shit what the fuck? What the fuck
is?’ You know, you feel like losing your balance for a while. It’s sort of ‘am
I that?’ you know. It’s like I had to re-evaluate my self-image in some way.
Since the men were reluctant to understand themselves as violent, many

thought it was unnecessary, or at least difficult, to seek professional
Lucas Gottzén 203
help. Often they did nothing until their partner finally decided to leave,
or the police or social services intervened. At most treatment centres I vis-
ited, the men initially attended individual therapy sessions with the aim of
starting group treatment as soon as possible. Faced with the idea of start-
ing in a group with other violent men was challenging. Many men told me
how they initially had differentiated between themselves and the other men,
between the violence they exercised and the violence others exercised. The
other men’s violence was seen as more extensive and systematic than their
own. They had been violent only a few times while the other men were
recognized as ‘proper’ woman batterers.
In the interviews, most men were willing to admit their use of violence,
and, on a general level their responsibility for their violence. This was partly
a result of having attended therapy for some time and coming to some sort
of understanding of their problems. They were also able to recount their
assaults in detail, something they often did in their group sessions. When
asked to give evaluations of their violence, however, they gave much respon-
sibility to either their partner, or to internal or external circumstances, as
for instance 36-year-old Erik. He argues that his violence in a previous rela-
tionship ‘partly’ was his girlfriend’s fault since she made him jealous. When
asking him, he explains:
Yeah, she was flirting with her ex and [. . .] my mind snapped when she
told me that they had dinner together and he had used our tanning bed
and all that, and that she washed him. Then I just lost my head.
How are we supposed to understand this statement? How do I as a researcher

create an encounter between Erik and my readers? Inspired by so-called
accounts research, which is common in ethnomethodological (LeCouteur
and Oxlad, 2011) and feminist violence research (Hearn, 1998; Boonzaier
and de la Rey, 2004), I first began to analyse how the men explained and
minimized their responsibility for their violence. Erik argues that it was
wrong to assault his girlfriend, but presents it as more or less the inevitable
result of her flirting. To blame your violence on someone else is a form of
‘justification’. By arguing that he temporarily was ‘out of character’ (Hearn,
1998), not being himself when it happened, Erik’s violence is also presented
as the work of another, ‘violent self’, as the work of someone he normally
is not.
Even though this type of analysis powerfully shows how responsibility and
agency is negotiated, the problem is that since it does not present the context
of the statement it tends to present men as carriers of misogynist discourses,
while ‘the humanity of the men, including their own problematic position
vis-à-vis certain masculinities’ is obscured (Presser, 2005, p. 2068). My critical
gaze is justly directed towards the perpetrator, but my analysis runs the risk
of reproducing him as a stereotypical woman batterer. This is far from the
way he perceives himself; he does not see himself as a violent man, but as a
man in difficult circumstances that on some occasions has been forced to use
violence against his partners. I am not convinced that an accounts analysis
helps me to capture an emic perspective; instead Erik continues to be just as
incomprehensible as my prejudice against violent men.
But how can I go beyond pointing out Erik as an unintelligible stranger?
One strategy is to take a psycho-social perspective and present his rather
problematic history (Jefferson, 1997). I could then mention how he was bul-
lied throughout his childhood, but finally decided to fight back and how
that taught him that violence solves most problems. I could also talk about
his unemployment, illness, obesity, homelessness and low self-esteem, and
how his violence could be seen as a way to defend his fragile identity. This
form of analysis seems sympathetic and can be fruitful, but runs the risk
of presenting yet another account – now located in his childhood or some-
where else in his background – that explains and, to some extent, justifies
his violence.
While an analysis of his accounts reproduces his estrangement, a psycho-
social approach seems to render him comprehensible at the expense of
creating an ‘excuse’ for his violence. The problem with these two method-
ological approaches are that when we let our readers encounter violent men
we either present them as victims of their circumstances and a reified ‘mas-
culinity’ (McCarry, 2007), or fixating them as violent men with no other
subject position. This is a conundrum for much (pro)feminist masculinity
research. As Jeff Hearn (2012) has pointed out, the aim is to make men visi-
ble as gendered beings while also deconstructing their privilege. In order to
carry out this task I argue that we need to move beyond the individual man
and his accounts and study the social and cultural processes that produce
him and his statements. This includes both highlighting the man’s other
social positions – recognizing that he is more than simply a violent man
and that his violence is set within everyday gender and class divisions – but
also focusing on the position he is given in the particular interview and the
narratives produced. Moreover, it includes analysing the researcher’s posi-
tion when writing about Erik and other violent men. How do I position
myself when writing about Erik? What happens with ‘me’ when I ‘reveal’
that Erik is minimizing his violence? In my narrative, the reader does not
only encounter Erik but me as well. The story about Erik, as well as my other
representations of violent men, may serve as a way to enact myself as a self-
conscious researcher that could place me beyond men’s oppressive practices
(Ahmed, 2004). I then obscure that I am part of a norm that I critically
examine. By presenting Erik’s accounts, I position him as an unintelligible
Other, while I appear as a gender-equal, non-violent researcher. I fixate his
multiple subjectivities into a coherent, stable identity by removing all com-
plexity in a similar fashion that my informants reduce other men to ‘proper’
woman batterers, which in itself is a ‘mundane sort of violence’ (Butler,
1994, p. 9).
Lucas Gottzén 205
Violent men as familiar
In order to capture an emic perspective on men’s violence, I instead tried

to become familiar with my informants. The problem was, though, that the
closer I got, the more the perpetrator tended to disappear and I started to
collude with him. Filip, for instance, was one of the men that helped me
understand why and how men start using violence. But during the interview
I began to think that he was such a nice guy that I stopped seeing him as
a violent man and instead thought that his violence was more or less his
girlfriend’s fault. The question is why I felt such empathy for him and not
for Erik, who appeared as a stereotypical woman batterer to me.
I think it partly had to do with a sense of shared social position with
Filip. He was a student, middle class, well travelled and had similar cultural
preferences to me. His girlfriend was also a feminist, which he supported.
Had I met him in another context, I would probably have become friends
with him. Simmel (1908) points out that we can experience ourselves as
similar to strangers when sharing social position. But these qualities are
not inherent to the stranger; they are properties that can be shared with
most people. In other words, there is nothing in the relationship itself that
makes us similar. The experience of shared social position is, however, often
the basis of empathy and for choosing friends and partners (Verbrugge,
1977). Although the perceived shared social position made our encounter
congenial, I also used it to establish rapport. One might say that I used
homosociality as a resource in the interview. Homosociality is created in a
various ways, including jargon, homosocial desire, identification and confir-
mation rituals (Meuser, 2004). It may also be produced by taste distinctions.
With Filip I talked about places both of us had visited, with other men
I talked about common leisure activities. With Erik, I shared neither class
position nor cultural preferences.
Shared social position does not fully explain why I started to like Filip,
but had difficulties experiencing any familiarity with Erik, since I could
experience similar connection with other men whose social positions and
experiences resembled Erik’s. I think one reason relates to what happened
in the encounter and the different ways the men presented themselves. Lois
Presser (2005) has pointed out that interviews create opportunities for vio-
lent men to establish themselves as ‘good’ and often try to obtain empathy
and understanding. The interviewee’s attempts to be intelligible can cause
the researcher to accept his story as the only version of events and his self-
presentation as not ‘really’ being a violent man (Cavanagh and Lewis, 1996).
Offender narratives could be seen as attempts to admit assaults while posi-
tioning oneself as a non-violent individual. My experience was that Erik
made this all too obvious through presenting himself as a victim of rumours
and slander, and his violence as a result of his girlfriends’ provocations.
In contrast, Filip vividly described his violence while displaying remorse,
which made me believe that he genuinely saw it as completely his fault.

By displaying remorse and shame in the research interview, the informant
is able to enact himself as a ‘good’ perpetrator and someone the researcher
may sympathize with (Gottzén, forthcoming; Sollund, 2008). If the infor-
mant does not show remorse, or present violence as reprehensible in some
other way, and becomes aggressive or evasive, the researcher may feel antipa-
thy. Filip became comprehensible by showing what I perceived as ‘genuine’
remorse and presenting ‘reasonable’ accounts for his violence. He was one
of the few informants who dared to embrace, or at least wrestle with, the
woman batterer category. But this also posed a greater challenge; it was far
more difficult for me to not collude with Filip than Erik as I came to perceive
him as different from the other violent men.
Beyond strange and familiar men?
My experience is that neither a critical estrangement as advocated by,

for instance, ethnomethodology or accounts research, nor the empathetic
approach that ethnographers and psychoanalytically inspired researchers
propose are entirely helpful for (pro)feminist studies of men and violence.
While both methodological approaches have their advantages, they tend
to either reproduce stereotypical notions of violent men, or make men so
intelligible that we start excusing their violence.
Is there a way to move beyond an understanding of men and violence
through the binary scheme of strangeness and familiarity? Probably not
completely, and part of the challenge for Critical Studies on Men and
Masculinities is to deal with this ambivalence. Ahmed (2000) argues that
a solution to move beyond stranger fetishism is to study the ‘modes of
encounter’, that is, the opportunities and conditions of the encounter. What
makes it possible in the first place (for example, history, social position)? She
argues that we need to enable a ‘generous encounter’, that is, to recognize
that broader social relations affect the encounter, but in a way that means it
is still possible to be surprised by our informants, acknowledging that they
move beyond the encounter that stabilizes their complexities. That includes
recognizing that the man I meet is more than simply a woman batterer, more
than a violent man; he has other life experiences that are worth listening
to. There are other narratives that are not articulated in the encounter; for
each story there are numerous stories untold (Tamboukou, 2008). Some of
these other narratives may be facilitated through a ‘teller-focused interview’
(Hydén, forthcoming), that is, an encounter that helps the interviewee to
produce his stories. These narratives could nevertheless not be seen as ‘evi-
dence of experience’ (Scott, 1991), but rather as locally and jointly produced
narratives where interviewer and interviewee create meaning in relation to
normative notions of ‘being a man’. It is therefore also crucial to analyse the
unforeseen consequences of the encounter. With regards to research on men
Lucas Gottzén 207
and violence it is primarily about how I as a researcher present myself as a

non-violent and gender-equal man by recognizing other men as embodying
oppressive practices while keeping quiet about my own. Second, we need to
analyse how violent men encounter the women batterer category; how they
produce Others as (more) violent and proper woman batterers and in that
way present themselves as belonging to an imagined community of ‘good’,
non-violent men.
The figure of the ‘woman batterer’ has become a stranger, a monster –
in both (pro)feminist violence research and in violent men’s stories. This
monster needs to be deconstructed. The challenge is to show that violence
against women is not carried out by incomprehensible monsters, but, given
the logics of the gender order, men’s violence against women is ‘reasonable’,
mundane and familiar (Hearn, 2012). Concurrently, we need to keep a crit-
ical eye on the ways that everyday violence is obscured by highlighting the
processes that continuously presents violence against women as something
Other men are doing.
References
Agar, M. (1996) The Professional Stranger: An Informal Introduction to Ethnography (San
Diego, CA: Academic Press).
Ahmed, S. (2000) Strange Encounters: Embodied Others in Post-Coloniality (London:
Routledge).
Ahmed, S. (2004) ‘Declarations of Whiteness: The Non-Performativity of Anti-Racism’,
Borderlands, 3, http://www.borderlands.net.au/vol3no2_2004/ahmed_declarations.
htm, date accessed 30 May 2012.
Althusser, L. (1971/2001) ‘Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses: Notes towards
an Investigation’ in Lenin and Philosophy, and Other Essays (New York: Monthly
Review Press).
Andersson, K. (2007) ‘To Slap a “Kraxelhora”: Violence as Category-Bound Activity in
Young Men’s Talk’, NORMA: Nordic Journal for Masculinity Studies, 2, 144–162.
Boonzaier, F. and C. de la Rey (2004) ‘Woman Abuse: The Construction of Gender in
Women and Men’s Narratives of Violence’, South African Journal of Psychology, 34,
443–463.
Butler, J. (1994) ‘Against Proper Objects’, Differences, 6, 1–26.
Cavanagh, K. and R. Lewis (1996) ‘Interviewing Violent Men: Compromise or Chal-
lenge?’ in K. Cavanagh and V. Cree (eds) Working with Men: Feminism and Social Work
Flood, M. and B. Pease (2005) ‘Undoing Men’s Privilege and Advancing Gender
Equality’, Policy and Society, 24, 119–138.
Gadd, D. (2004) ‘Making Sense of Interviewee-Interviewer Dynamics in Narratives
About Violence in Intimate Relationships’, International Journal of Social Research
Methodology, 7, 383–401.
Garfinkel, H. (1967) Studies in Ethnomethodology (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall).
Gottzén, L. (2011) ‘Involved Fatherhood? Exploring the Educational Work of Middle-

Class Men’, Gender and Education, 23, 619–634.
Gottzén, L. (forthcoming) ‘Displaying Shame: Men’s Violence Toward Women in a
Culture of Gender Equality’ in M. Hydén, A. Wade and D. Gadd (eds) Response-Based
Approaches to Studies of Interpersonal Violence.
Gottzén, L. and T. Kremer-Sadlik (2012) ‘Fatherhood and Youth Sports: A Balancing
Act Between Care and Expectations’, Gender and Society, 26, 639–664.
Hearn, J. (1998) The Violences of Men: How Men Talk About and How Agencies Respond to
Men’s Violence to Women (London: Sage).
Hearn, J. (2012) ‘A Multi-Faceted Power Analysis of Men’s Violence to Known Women:
From Hegemonic Masculinity to the Hegemony of Men’, Sociological Review, 60,
589–610.
Hewlett, B.S. (1991) Intimate Fathers: The Nature and Context of Aka Pygmy Paternal Care
(Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press).
Hydén, M. (forthcoming) ‘The Teller-Focused Interview: Interviewing as a Relational
Practice’, Qualitative Social Work.
Jefferson, T. (1997) ‘Masculinities and Crime’ in M. Maguire, R. Morgan and R. Reiner
(eds) The Oxford Handbook of Criminology (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
Kristeva, J. (1991) Stranger to Ourselves (New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf).
LeCouteur, A. and M. Oxlad (2011) ‘Managing Accountability for Domestic Violence:
Identities, Membership Categories and Morality in Perpetrators’ Talk’, Feminism and
Psychology, 21, 5–28.
McCarry, M. (2007) ‘Masculinity Studies and Male Violence: Critique or Collusion?’,
Women’s Studies International Forum, 30, 404–415.
Meuser, M. (2004) ‘Homosociality’ in M. Kimmel and A. Aronson (eds) Men and
Masculinities: A Social, Cultural, and Historical Encyclopedia Vol. 1 (Santa Barbara, CA:
ABC-CLIO).
Presser, L. (2005) ‘Negotiating Power and Narrative in Research: Implications for
Feminist Methodology’, Signs, 30, 2067–2090.
Scott, J.W. (1991) ‘The Evidence of Experience’, Critical Inquiry, 17, 773–797.
Schütz, A. (1944) ‘The Stranger: An Essay in Social Psychology’, American Journal of
Sociology, 49, 499–507.
Sharp, G. and E. Kremer (2006) ‘The Safety Dance: Confronting Harassment, Intimi-
dation, and Violence in the Field’, Sociological Methodology, 36, 317–327.
Simmel, G. (1908/2009) ‘The Stranger’ in C. Lemert (ed.) Social Theory: The
Multicultural and Classic Readings (Boulder, CO: Westview Press).
Sollund, R. (2008) ‘Tested Neutrality: Emotional Challenges in Qualitative Interviews
on Homicide and Rape’, Journal of Scandinavian Studies in Criminology and Crime
Prevention, 9, 181–201.
Tamboukou, M. (2008) ‘Re-Imaging the Narratable Subject’, Qualitative Research, 8,
283–292.
Verbrugge, L. (1977) ‘The Structure of Adult Friendship Choices’, Social Forces, 56,
576–597.
West, C. and D. Zimmerman (1987) ‘Doing Gender’, Gender and Society, 1, 125–151.
16
Involving Older Gay Men in
Research: The Lure of Group
Experience
Kip Jones and Lee-Ann Fenge
Introduction
This chapter considers ways to involve older gay men in research, reflecting
upon the experience gained through two projects involving older gay men in
group experiences. In both projects, male participants were keen to become
involved in opportunities to meet and cooperate as groups, and relished the
opportunity to come together to share their experiences. This chapter will
explore why tools such as participatory action research and focus groups
are appealing to older gay men as methods for sharing their experiences.
It will consider how older gay men make use of the group experience, and
the benefit this brings to an overall research project.
Background
When considering why and how older gay men become involved in research
projects, it is important to contextualize their lives within wider historical
and social contexts (Clunis et al., 2005). Life events and societal approaches
towards homosexuality will have sculpted both individual and group iden-
tity. Many grew up when homosexuality was still illegal and criminalized,
and as a consequence they may have masked their sexual orientation, and
lived in fear of homophobia (Fredriksen-Goldsen and Muraco, 2010). For
older gay men, identity is not only influenced by their sexual orientation,
but also mediated by a myriad of other social locations. As a result, they may
be silenced by multiple levels of discrimination including ageism, heterosex-
ism and homophobia (LeCompte, 1993), and hidden identities may result in
higher levels of personal, social and geographic isolation (McCarthy, 2000;
Boulden, 2001; D’Augelli and Grossman, 2001; Beard and Hissam, 2002;
Fenge and Jones, 2011). Normative notions of masculinity are strongly tied
209
210 Involving Older Gay Men in Research
to youth and to heterosexuality (Slevin, 2008), therefore ageing may pose

particular challenges for older gay men.
A key feature of the current ageing population of gay men is their shared
history of HIV/AIDS as it developed in the 1980s and the impact this had
in ‘decimating social networks and shaping their personal and social lives’
(Rosenfield et al., 2012, p. 255). Coming together in a group with other older
gay men may therefore offer opportunities for validating a ‘lived’ experience
of loss, discrimination and stigma, and such connections can offer resilience
to both individual and group identity. Research with sexual minority youth
suggests group experience may ‘acknowledge a group’s collective experience
of discrimination’ (Di Fulvio, 2011, p. 1616), and this may also be true for
older gay men who have a collective history of prejudice and discrimination
to share.
The experience of stigma and prejudice across the life course can increase
the experience of isolation and stress levels for older gay men (Meyer, 2003;
Iwasaki and Ristock, 2007). The complexity of the interrelationships between
biographical diversity and social context (Cronin and King, 2010), allows
us to consider the myriad of factors that influence identity and social con-
nectedness. Some may be ‘out’ and integrated into a gay lifestyle, while
others may be ‘closeted’ and isolated from the support of a wider gay
community. Enabling older gay men to share and voice their experiences
through groups enables researchers to develop a deeper understanding of
the effects of personality, personal history, health, gender, sexuality, support
networks, marital status and ethnic and cultural differences on ageing and
sexuality.
Sharing in a group context
Many older gay men have negotiated their identity within a heteronorma-
tive, family-based society. As non-heterosexuals, gay men have lived outside
of the traditional supports for identity and relationships (Weeks et al., 2001),
and have needed to find support and connections within their own commu-
nity or family of choice. Social connectedness is important to the experience
of individual well-being and has been demonstrated to be beneficial in times
of stress (Cohen, 2004), and fellowship groups for older gay men in the
United States have been described as ‘affective fellowship’, providing social
support to often isolated individuals (Shokeid, 2001).
Social dimensions of well-being include a sense of belonging, and can be
linked to notions of social capital and social contacts that give support (Gray,
2008). Providing opportunities for older gay men to share their experiences
through a research or community group offers opportunities for individuals
to pool their social capital and develop resilience through connectivity with
others. Equally important is the opportunity to come together as a commu-
nity of storytellers. Focus groups offer situations in which personal narratives
Kip Jones and Lee-Ann Fenge 211
are intertwined with identities and communities (Plummer, 1995), and can
be an important tool as the discursive nature of the focus group allows
older gay men to validate their narratives as well as explore new networking
possibilities.
Being part of a group, be it an informal support group or a research focus
group, brings individuals together for a common purpose. Focus groups
can encourage discussion around ‘sensitive’ issues, and have been used to
explore end of life experiences of older LGB (Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual)
people and bereavement within same sex relationships (Almack et al., 2010),
and the nature of stress for lesbians and gay men (Iwasaki and Ristock, 2007).
Focus groups offer the opportunity to share narratives and engage in inter-
pretative practices through which social realities are constructed. For gay
men, this may involve negotiating the socially constructed negative view of
homosexuality, and the influence this has had on their identity across their
life course.
The following sections will explore the involvement of older gay men
in two research projects. The first embraced a participatory action research
methodology to work with a group of older lesbians and gay men for three
years to explore their experiences of ageing (Gay and Grey Project, 2006;
Fenge, 2010). The second (Fenge et al., 2010; Fenge and Jones, 2011) built
on the themes emerging from the first project, and focused on how ‘coming
out’ narratives are used as a way of negotiating identity over the life course.
The Gay and Grey Project
The Gay and Grey project was a joint initiative between a voluntary agency
working with older people in Dorset, and Bournemouth University, funded
for three years by the Big Lottery Fund. The project was among the very first
in the United Kingdom to undertake participative action research (PAR) with
older lesbians and gay men. PAR has been used effectively with other groups
of marginalized people to support social justice and to promote the voices of
these groups (Cahill, 2007; Etowa et al., 2007), and it was therefore felt to be
an appropriate method when working with older LGB people who may have
experienced lifelong discrimination. PAR was used to support and facilitate
older lesbians and gay men’s engagement in research about their experiences
of social exclusion and marginalization.
A core group of up to 20 volunteers was involved in the project, and they
were self-identified non-heterosexuals, aged between 55 and 85 years. The
project aimed to
(1) Identify factors and issues that may contribute to older lesbian and gay
exclusion from the wider community, the gay community itself and
from the support, services and activities available, and
(2) Identify how these issues could be addressed.
Using a PAR approach is not straightforward, and different group members

bring disparate and sometimes competing aspirations for the project to the
table. A major challenge was to engage with people drawn to the project
for different reasons. As Bradbury and Reason (2001, pp. 449–450) suggest,
‘different individual members are likely to hold different questions with
different degrees of interest’.
This provided a challenge to both researchers and to the older volunteers,
as they needed to recognize ‘otherness’ and value the contributions of others
within the research process. Group processes can lead to ‘political disempow-
erment’ (Lennie, 2005), a situation in which certain participants take control
of a project thereby excluding ‘other’ voices and ideas. This can result in
some people being silenced by a project that sets out to empower them.
Participatory action research therefore has the capacity to be ‘exclusive’ as
well as ‘inclusive’ (Fenge, 2010).
Coming together as a mixed group in a participatory action research
project allowed both older lesbian and gay men to share ‘collective’ expe-
riences associated with their sexuality. This meant confronting assumptions
that both men and women had about each other’s experiences. One older
lesbian volunteer describes this process of coming together as a mixed group:
There was some kind of assumption that men’s and women’s issues were
different. This turned out to be wrong actually; there was a difference
certainly . . . but the fears, needs, aspirations and expectations were very
much the same – and we fairly quickly re-thought the idea of separatism
and re-grouped.
(Fenge et al., 2009, p. 517)
This highlights the importance of allowing participants to define group

membership and participation. As is the case in any group coming together
for the first time, the group evolved as the focus of the research emerged and
became embedded. Interestingly, the appeal of the project appeared to divide
along gendered lines. The older lesbians were keen to become involved in
the research process itself, engaging in both the quantitative and qualitative
aspects of the research project. They readily took on the role of researcher,
undertaking research and analysing data, and later becoming involved in
writing a text book and several academic papers.
In contrast, the older gay men appeared to be motivated by a desire to
meet others through groups and networks (Fenge et al., 2009). Therefore,
the social aspect of the project, and the opportunity it afforded to meet in
a relatively safe environment, was a central preoccupation. This is described
by one male volunteer who reflected on his experience of the project:
From the very beginning of the project it became apparent that there
was a great need for some way of helping older gay men in the outlying
areas of the county get in touch with and socially interact with their
peers . . . . Some of these men were very disappointed when they learned
that it was not, strictly speaking, within the remit of the project and there
was a fair amount of drop-out among the male volunteers as a result.
(Fenge et al., 2009, p. 156)
Those volunteers that remained with the project readily took on ‘outreach’
roles and raised the profile of the project with agencies across health- and
social-care sectors. Some volunteers also spent a considerable amount of
effort trying to set up a social structure for those men who wanted to share
their experiences with other gay men in a group. As a result, some facilitated
small groups were set up in more rurally isolated parts of the local area,
and through these meetings the volunteers tried to encourage members to
take ownership and responsibility for organizing events among themselves.
These smaller groups provided a safe haven for older gay men to share their
collective experiences within a supportive environment. This aspect may be
particularly important for gay men who are ageing with stigma attached to
both old age and homosexuality (Slevin, 2008).
What became evident through the project was that multiple forms of mas-
culinity and identity exist and these are produced by the intersections of
various factors including class, ethnicity, age, sexuality and location. Older
gay men can be both ‘advantaged and disadvantaged by these interlocking
systems of power and oppression’ (Slevin and Linnemann, 2010, p. 484).
Some men who were attracted to the project were ‘out’ and happy to share
this with other people as part of the roles they took during the project. Oth-
ers wanted to remain hidden, after living a lifetime with fear and stigma, and
were looking for a ‘safe’ group to join. To a certain extent, the project offered
a place for these different needs to be met. Through the ‘social’ group, older
gay men were able to meet on a regular basis for support, and through
a range of activities those wanting to change policy and practice became
involved in research and practice development.
The project seemed to attract individuals who wanted a ‘group’ experience
where they could share a feeling of solidarity with each other, and validate
their identities and masculinities as older gay men through a shared history
and understanding. Such natural groups or social networks appeared to be
missing from their lives, and some volunteers readily joined the project in
the hope that it would fill this void. It was disappointing that, despite a good
deal of effort from the volunteers in terms of establishing ‘social’ groups for
isolated older gay men, the groups were not self-sustaining, and soon ended
when the project itself concluded.
Gay and Pleasant Land? – A study about positioning, ageing

and gay life in rural south-west England and Wales
The Gay and Pleasant Land? project began with two points of interest result-
ing from the Gay and Grey project: first, ‘coming out’ stories seemed to be a
pervasive coping device used by participants in the study; and second, little
was known about older gay lives and experiences of those gay citizens who
may be geographically isolated in rural settings.
Through an exploration of the recollections, perceptions and storied
biographies of older lesbians and gay men and their rural experiences, the
Gay and Pleasant Land? project focused on connectivity and the inter-
sections between place, space, age and identity, and the life course that
describes those past connections. As part of the overarching Grey and Pleas-
ant Land? group of studies on ageing in rural south-west England and Wales
under the national UK research programme, New Dynamics of Ageing, ‘con-
nectivity’ was a central concept in developing an understanding of how
sense of belonging may be negotiated within a rural context. The umbrella
Grey and Pleasant Land? project investigated the key ways in which older
people are connected to their rural communities; that is, culturally, socially,
economically and technologically, and, through these, examined older peo-
ple’s involvement in civic life. ‘Connectivity’ can be understood vis-à-vis
the Gay and Pleasant Land? project as the ways in which individuals iden-
tify and connect themselves with others and the ways in which this may
be filtered by aspects of their age and sexuality. Identity and the ways in
which older gay men chose to disclose their sexuality as part of their identity
exerts an influence on the particular ways in which these individuals made
such connections. Biography was seen as a retrospective way in which to
explore the lifespan and the way in which memory constructs and influences
present-day connectivity.
The emerging recollections, perceptions and storied biographies of older
gay citizens and their rural experiences formed the bulk of the data gathered
and the basis for story and characterization of a short professionally made
film, Rufus Stone (2012), the main output of the project. Although older les-
bians were equally included in the study, it was the stories told by older gay
men, individually and in groups, which mainly informed the Project Team
in the creation of the story for the film, using composite characters as a liter-
ary device, or a ‘fictive’ reality (Jones, 2012b). Fictive reality is conceived as
the ability to engage in imaginative and creative invention while remaining
true to the remembered realities as told by participants in a study. A similar
incident or report may be told by several participants through the research
process. When these reports are combined into one person’s story, a ‘fiction’
is born. Second, when writing the script, the characters ‘take over’, another
device of fiction writing. At all times during the writing of the story and
script for the film, however, shuttling back and forth to the raw interview
data was key.
The project’s main aim was to empower both older lesbians and gay men
in rural areas through a collaborative multi-method participatory action
research design, which embraced the principles of a Performative Social Sci-
ence (Jones, 2006) in its dissemination plan. The film was made in order to
encourage community dialogue and inform service providers, to ‘open up

(one or two) obstructed passages, and to connect levels of reality kept apart
from one another’ (Bourriaud, 2002, p. 8).
Methods
A range of methods was used to generate the storied biographies of older gay
citizens about their rural experiences. These included in-depth biographic
life story interviews (BNIM) (Jones, 2001, 2004a) and actual site visits to the
rural locations where older gay citizens were living. Sifting through the ini-
tial raw data from the interviews, certain questions remained unanswered;
others begged to be fleshed out. Some crucial points were raised in the
interviews, but not elaborated upon by the participants. It was decided to
organize a focus group or ‘coffee morning’ in order to focus more specif-
ically on these remaining questions and expand upon the richness of the
individual interviews. What had become clear from our biographic inter-
views was that it was not so important that participants currently resided in
the countryside, but rather, that they had experience of rural living at some
point over the life course. Migration had been a typical occurrence in the
life stories for all but one of the individuals we interviewed. We also opened
the focus group up to younger (50+) participants who were gay and had
experience of rural living.
The national UK Gay News picked up the story and publicized the coffee
morning, creating wider interest in participation. Except for one lesbian who
was already coming for an individual interview at the time, the focus group
ended up consisting of men, probably due to the Gay News’ circulation. The
discussions were lively and informative, bringing personal experiences and
details to the mix of queries, which proved helpful to the development of
the story for the film. What impressed the organizers most, however, was
how this opportunity for (mostly) men to gather, ‘tell tales’ and converse,
seemed really important to them – a unique and valued experience. At the
end of the morning, it was as though they did not want this seemingly rare
opportunity for informal interaction to end. In every case, from the initial
in-depth interviews, to the site visits and finally in the focus group, these
gay men seemed particularly willing – even proud – to be contributing to
our study. Involvement in the project was perceived as giving the tales from
their life stories a sense of legitimacy – stories that often have been kept
hidden from or silent in their local, often rural, communities. Open-ended
probes focused, nonetheless, on particular areas where stories, which we had
heard needed to be fleshed out:
• What is/was it like being gay and living in the countryside?

• How do you/did you cope with being gay and living in a small
community?
• How open are you/were you about being gay to neighbours and other
people in the village?
• How do people treat you differently because you are gay or when they
suspect that you are different?
• How do services (doctors, nurses, social services and so on) treat you
differently?
• How do you/did you maintain friendships with other gay people in the
countryside?
• What is the worst thing that has ever happened to you because you are
gay? What is the best thing?
• How has growing older made a difference in the place that you live?
Or how has the place that you live made a difference in growing
older?
Coffee Morning focus group probes
Guy, a taxi driver in his late 50s, was the youngest participant in the focus
group, and it was interesting to note that his stories were eagerly listened
to by the other older participants. Perhaps Guy’s tales represented possible
alternative concepts of masculinity not perceived as available to the older
generation of gay men? When he spoke at the Coffee Morning about his
interactions through his job, Guy’s presentation and style seemed to indicate
to the group that things, indeed, were changing:
I’m a taxi driver um, in D . . . , which is a pretty ‘butch’ job, had to take
the jewelry off and stop the make-up . . .
∗
group laughter∗
But I, um, but I was a taxi driver for 13 years and I thought perhaps
I can do a little bit of good here, um, perhaps I can, um, perhaps if I say
who I am, um, people can see I’m, I don’t I’m not particularly camp,
not the stereotypical gay man, and if people can see that gay people are
just ordinary and then perhaps I’m doing a little bit of good, and as it
turned out I was able to . . . and it became Guy the gay taxi driver rather
than Guy the nice taxi man . . . . I was also the catalyst for other gay men
um unfortunately as a taxi driver working at night you get propositioned
um and I had um young lads proposition me . . . very flattering . . . um um
because they thought this was the only way to make contact with some-
one that was gay . . . just to simply chat to these guys from the villages
just to say ‘look you know um you don’t have to sort of you know offer
yourself to someone um just to have a chat with them um let’s have a
chat let’s talk about things’ . . . . There was a regular lad who I used to pick
up went to G . . . um and er we got talking and he was able to sort himself
out mentally through talking. Unfortunately pressure was on him and he

eventually stayed in the straight world.’
Following the interviews and citizen panel analyses of the data (see Jones,
2001, 2004a) and the subsequent focus group, conversations (rather than
formal meetings) were carried out by the project’s researchers and its advi-
sory committee consisting of active older gay citizens and representatives of
service providers. The researchers and volunteers sifted over the materials
and stories, suggesting possible plot lines, turns and twists, and contributed
to the development of the main characters – always constantly shuttling
back and forth to and from the research data itself.
Eventually, a dramatic arc began to emerge for the film’s story and its
inhabitants. At this stage, the project director began writing Rufus Stone
(2012) as a story on his weblog (Jones, 2012c). This resulted in the ‘treat-
ment’ for the film that was then handed over to the film’s director who wrote
the final script, always in consultation with the Project Director to ensure
accuracy with the research findings and to maintain the purpose intended
from the outset of the Project.
The project lead and author of the story for the film, Kip Jones, reflects:
How much of the story of Rufus Stone is my story? This is a difficult

question. As an older gay man, of course I identify with the characters.
Nonetheless, I grew up in a different country in a different time and under
different circumstances. Still, there are similar memories and these are
helpful in writing the background for the film. It also makes it easier for
me to say to the director, ‘No, they wouldn’t react that way, rather this
way’. There are certain experiences (or perhaps ‘memories’ to be more
exact) that we share in common. In conducting a biographic interview
with one of the volunteers, I recall clearly his reaching a point in his story
when he was also telling my story. It was quite a moment for me and rein-
forced a fact that is so often overlooked in reporting on lesbian and gay
experiences: accounts are not simply tales of sexual encounters: they are
stories about relationships which are often complex ones with histories
grounded in family, community, place and time. The final resource then
was a trust in my own memories or reliance on auto-ethnography as the
final piece of the puzzle in bringing the composite characters to life and
enriching the plotline before handing it over to the film’s director who
created the final script.
This retrospective imagining or ‘musing’, supported by narrative biographi-

cal theory, is extended in this case to the illusory biographies of others and
constructed within a sense of other as created by an imaginative projection
of self onto their worlds (Jones, 2012a), creating ‘dialogue(s) which never
happened’ (Reisz, 2012). In the end, the film renders poetically the way in
which our memories morph and play with our histories, much as dappled
sunlight reveals, then conceals, an idyllic landscape.
Josh Appignanesi, the film’s director, outlines the story of Rufus Stone
(2012):
The story dramatizes the old and continued prejudices of village life from
three main perspectives. Chiefly it is the story of Rufus, an ‘out’ older gay
man who was exiled from the village as a youth and reluctantly returns
from London to sell his dead parents’ cottage, where he is forced to con-
front the faces of his estranged past. Of these, Abigail is the tattle-tale who
‘outed’ Rufus 50 years ago when he spurned her interest. She has become
a lonely deluded lush. Flip, the boy Rufus adored, has also stayed in the
village: a life wasted in celibacy (occasionally interrupted by anonymous
sexual encounters) and denial [who is] looking after his elderly mother.
But Rufus too isn’t whole, saddled with an inability to return or forgive.
Key findings
• Although the laws changed regarding the illegality of homosexuality in

1967, men whose sexual identity developed before that change were pro-
foundly marked by growing up during the period when homosexuality
was illegal and punishable by imprisonment.
• Being born in one particular rural location and spending a lifetime there
is extremely rare. It may, in fact, be the case that many who complain of
‘incomers’ in rural areas were, at one time, incomers themselves.
• Prejudice was reported by gay men, particularly in small rural
communities.
• A secondary danger was uncovered in an attitude of ‘we don’t like to
mention it’ regarding the sexuality of others among rural dwellers – a
rural version of a ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ mentality.
• Many older gay and lesbian citizens need to negotiate ‘acceptance’ in
rural areas by being extremely cautious about to whom and when they
‘come out’, if at all.
• Negotiation with service providers also is often either fraught with
difficulties or non-existent in many of the reported cases.
• Stories of suicide among older gay men were prevalent in several of the
accounts that participants gave.
Implications for policy, practice and public engagement
The projected impact of the project’s film is to begin to change minds,

change attitudes and help to build communities where tolerance and
understanding are keys to connectivity and to increasing the value of the

social capital of all citizenry in rural settings.
Problems of isolation, lack of mobility, limited friendship and support net-
works, along with issues of lack of service provision, are all discussed among
older gay men in the research much in the same way that they are concerns
for the larger heterosexual ageing population.
Whether real or imagined, class is also a major component in many of
the stories reported. Class and perceptions of class are issues that emerged
repeatedly in the life stories of participants.
Further outputs
The film, Rufus Stone (2012), continues to be screened at both academic

and civic gatherings, with the expectation of wider viewing by the public
in the near future through television, film festivals and general distribu-
tion. Early audience responses to screenings of the film as well as further
information about the background to the research and the making of the
film are available on the Rufus Stone weblog: http://blogs.bournemouth.ac.
uk/rufus-stone/.
A ‘Method Deck’ of cards has been produced through a grant from the Big
Lottery Fund. This follow-on project provides a playful tool for use by service
providers and community groups to begin to deal with prejudice against and
isolation of older gay citizens within community groups and services.
A small study on diversity and bereavement is currently being undertaken
at Bournemouth University, which includes interviewing older gay and les-
bian citizens and listening to their stories of loss and the complexities that
sometimes arise when dealing with loss in a heteronormative culture.
The ESRC Festival of Social Science funded a one-day event in Autumn,
2012, titled: ‘Pathways to impact: Ageing, diversity, connectivity and com-
munity’, which brought together service providers, representatives of com-
munity and LGBT groups, and academics for a screening of the film and the
launch of the Methods to Diversity pack of cards.
Conclusion
Project Lead, Kip Jones, recalls a moment of hope and the possibility of
attitudes changing among younger generations:
A phrase that is well over one hundred years old is often repeated by some
members of an older generation that seems incapable at times of even
tolerating diversity in their midst. When a Victorian actor showed too
much affection for the leading man, actress Mrs. Patrick Campbell replied:
‘My dear, I don’t care what they do, so long as they don’t do it in the street
and frighten the horses’. The fact that a Victorian attitude frozen in time
is today seen as an ‘amusing’ response to an ‘uncomfortable’ situation

simply boggles the mind. ‘Traditional values’ such as tolerance and fair
play seem to have no place in this version of community standards.
The line ‘We don’t care what you do as long as you don’t do it in the road
and frighten the horses’ is included in the script of Rufus Stone (2012). It is
delivered in a speech excusing village attitudes, even making light of a plea
for compassion. In the next scene, the lead character discovers that his boy-
hood friend has just hanged himself. The point of this juxtaposition in the
storyline is to emphasize that what we say often does have consequences,
often serious ones.
Now for some good news. Between takes of the scene described above,
I was waiting with some of the young crew, sheltering ourselves from a
sudden shower behind a van packed with leads and sundry cinematic
equipment. The boom operator, Dan, fresh from film school with an
unbridled enthusiasm for his role, facetiously quizzed me: ‘So Kip. Are
horses afraid of gay people?’
We all laughed.
‘It is less painful to learn in youth than to be ignorant in age’ – Proverb.
References
Almack, K., J. Seymour and G. Bellamy (2010) ‘Exploring the Impact of Sexual Orien-
tation on Experiences and Concerns about End of Life Care and on Bereavement for
Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual Older People’, Sociology, 44, 908–924.
Beard, K.W. and A. Hissam (2002) ‘The Use of Erikson’s Developmental Theory with
Gay Men from Rural Communities’, Journal of Rural Community Psychology, E5, 1–13.
Boulden, W. (2001) ‘Gay Men Living in a Rural Environment’, Journal of Gay and
Lesbian Social Services, 12, 63–75.
Bradbury, H. and P. Reason (2001) ‘Conclusion: Broadening the Bandwidth of Valid-
ity – Issues and Choice-points for Improving the Quality of Action Research’ in
P. Reason and H. Bradbury (eds) Handbook of Action Research (London: Sage).
Bourriaud, N. (2002) Relational Aesthetics (trans. by Simon Pleasance and Fronza
Woods) (Dijon, France: Les Presses du Reel).
Cahill, C. (2007) ‘Including Excluded Perspectives in Participatory Action Research’,
Design Studies, 28, 325–340.
Clunis, M.K., I. Freriksen-Goldsen, P. Freeman and N. Nystrom (2005) Looking Back,
Looking Forward: Lives of Lesbian Elders (Binghamton, NY: Haworth).
Cohen, S. (2004) ‘Social Relationships and Health’, American Psychologist, 59, 676–684.
Cronin, A. and A. King (2010) ‘Power, Inequality and Identification: Exploring
Diversity and Intersectionality amongst Older LGB Adults’, Sociology, 44, 876–891.
D’Augelli, A.R. and A.H. Grossman (2001) ‘Disclosure of Sexual Orientation, Victim-
ization, and Mental Health Among Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual Older Adults’, Journal
of Interpersonal Violence, 16, 1008–1027.
Di Fulvio, G.T. (2011) ‘Sexual Minority Youth, Social Connection and Resilience:
From Personal Struggle to Collective Identity’, Social Science & Medicine, 72,
1611–1617.
Etowa, J.B., W.T. Bernard, B. Oyinsan and B. Clow (2007) ‘Participatory Action
Research (PAR): An Approach for Improving Black Women’s Health in Rural and
Remote Communities’, Journal of Transcultural Nursing, 18, 349–357.
Frenge, L.A. (2010) ‘Striving towards Inclusive Research: An Example of Participatory
Action Research with Older Lesbians and Gay Men’, British Journal of Social Work,
40, 878–894.
Frenge, L.A. and K. Jones (2011) ‘Gay and Pleasant Land? Exploring Sexuality, Ageing
and Rurality in a Multi-Method Performative Project’, British Journal of Social Work,
Advance Access published 4 May 2011, doi:10.1093/bjsw/bcr058.
Frenge, L.A. Fannin, A. Armstrong, T. Hicks and V. Taylor (2009) ‘Lifting the Lid on
Sexuality and Ageing: The Experiences of Volunteer Researchers’, Qualitative Social
Work, 8, 509–524.
Frenge, L.A., K. Jones and R. Read (2010) ‘Connecting Participatory Methods in a Study
of Older Lesbian and Gay Citizens in Rural Areas’, International Journal of Qualitative
Methods, 9, 320–333.
Fredriksen-Goldsen, K.I. and A. Muraco (2010) ‘Aging and Sexual Orientation: A 25-
Year Review of the Literature’, Research on Aging, 32, 372–413.
Gay and Grey Project (2006) ‘Gay and Grey in Dorset: Lifting the Lid on Sexuality and
Ageing’, research report (Bournemouth, Dorset: Help and Care Development Ltd).
Gray, A. (2008) ‘The Social Capital of Older People’, Ageing and Society, 29, 5–31.
Iwasaki, Y. and J.L. Ristock (2007) ‘The Nature of Stress Experienced by Lesbians and
Gay Men’, Anxiety, Stress and Coping, 20, 299–319.
Jones, K. (2001) ‘Narratives of Identity and the Informal Care Role’, unpublished PhD
dissertation, De Montfort University, Leicester.
Jones, K. (2004a) ‘Thoroughly Post-modern Mary (A Biographic Narrative Inter-
view with Mary Gergen)’, Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung/Forum: Qualitative Social
Research, 5, art. 18, date accessed 6 May 2012, http://www.qualitative-research.net/
fqs-texte/3-04/04-3-18-e.htm.
Jones, K. (2004b) ‘Minimalist Passive Interviewing Technique and Team Analysis of
Narrative Qualitative Data’ in F. Rapport (ed.) New Qualitative Methodologies in Health
and Social Care (London: Routledge).
Jones, K. (2006) ‘A Biographic Researcher in Pursuit of an Aesthetic: The Use of Arts-
based (Re)presentations in ‘Performative’ Dissemination of Life Stories’, Qualitative
Sociology Review, 2, 66–85.
Jones, K. (2012a) ‘On a Train From Morgantown: A Film Script’, Psychological Studies,
57, 224–235.
Jones, K. (2012b) ‘Short Film as Performative Social Science: The Story Behind Princess
Margaret’ in P. Vannini (ed.) Popularizing Research (Bern: Peter Lang Publishing).
Jones, K. (2012c) KIPWORLD, weblog, http://kipworldblog.blogspot.co.uk/.
LeCompte, M.D. (1993) ‘A Framework for Hearing Silence: What Does Telling Stories
Mean When we are Supposed to be Doing Science?’ in D. McLaughlin and W.G.
Tierney (eds) Naming Silenced Lives: Personal Narratives and Processes of Educational
Change (New York: Routledge).
Lennie, J. (2005) ‘An Evaluation Capacity-Building Process for Sustainable Community
IT Initiatives’, Evaluation, 11, 390–414.
McCarthy, L. (2000) ‘Poppies in a Wheat Field: Exploring the Lives of Rural Lesbians’,
Journal of Homosexuality, 39, 75–94.
Meyer, I.H. (2003) ‘Prejudice, Social Stress, and Mental Health in Lesbian, Gay
and Bisexual Populations: Conceptual Issues and Research Evidence’, Psychological
Bulletin, 129, 674–697.
Plummer, K. (1995) Telling Sexual Stories: Power, Change and Social Worlds (London:
Routledge).
Reisz, M. (2012) ‘Big-screen Vision Breaks Academic Boundaries’, Times Higher Educa-
tion, 5 January, date accessed 1 August 2012, http://www.timeshighereducation.co.
uk/story.asp?storycode= 418561.
Rosenfield, D., B. Bartlam and R.D. Smith (2012) ‘Out of the Closet and Into the
Trenches: Gay Male Baby Boomers, Aging and HIV/AIDS’, The Gerontologist, 52,
255–264.
Rufus Stone (2012) Motion Picture, produced by Parkville Pictures, London, directed
by Josh Appignanesi based on a story by Kip Jones.
Shokeid, M. (2001) ‘Our Group Has a Life of its Own: An Affective Fellowship of Older
Gay Men in New York City’, City and Society, 13, 5–30.
Slevin, K.F. (2008) ‘Disciplining Bodies: The Aging Experiences of Older Heterosexual
and Gay Men’, Generations, 32, Spring, 36–42.
Slevin, K.F. and T.J. Linneman (2010) ‘Old Gay Men’s Bodies and Masculinities’, Men
and Masculinities, 12, 483–507.
Weeks, J., B. Heaphy, and C. Donovan (2001) Same Sex Intimacies: Families of Choice
and Other Life Experiments (London: Routledge).
17
Interviewing Older Men Online
Miranda Leontowitsch
Introduction
There is a well-rehearsed argument that we are fast approaching a digital

divide, of users and non-users of the Internet (Wang et al., 2011). Moreover,
the low use of the Internet by older people has been described as a ‘grey dig-
ital divide’ (Millward, 2003). This may be explained by the fact that many
retired people today lived the majority of their lives without the Internet.
However, writing this chapter in 2012, it is apparent that older people are
making the digital conversion in ever increasing numbers. It is estimated
that around 40 per cent of people aged 65+ use the Internet across indus-
trialized countries, with figures ranging from 38 per cent in Sweden and
39 per cent in New Zealand (Centre for Digital Future, 2009), to 41 per cent
in the United Kingdom (Ofcom, 2010), 42 per cent for the United States and
45 per cent in Canada (Centre for Digital Future, 2009). Moreover, older
people are the fastest growing segment of Internet users, as numbers of
younger age groups appear to plateau (ABS, 2005). Data from the United
Kingdom show that older people use the Internet in similar ways to younger
age groups (ONS, 2011). There is also evidence to suggest that older people
join online support groups (Pfeil and Zaphiris, 2009) and that the volume of
such interaction is steadily increasing (Nimrod, 2009).
However, the use of ICT (Information Communication Technology) to
conduct qualitative interviews with older people, and older men in par-
ticular, is rarely utilized. This is because older men and ICT are two
under-researched topics in ageing research. There are several reasons as to
why these topics have been largely ignored and these need considering
before a discussion of online interviews with older men can be had. To do
this, the chapter has been divided into two sections. The first section crit-
ically examines why older men and ICT have been absent in much ageing
research. In the second section, I will draw on my research experiences of
using ICT to conduct interviews with older men.
223
224 Interviewing Older Men Online
ICT and older men: Two blind spots in ageing research
Research on ageing has predominantly relied on quantitative methods. This

has been largely due to the dominance of a political economy perspec-
tive in the discipline that focused on ageing as a residual category. Thus,
research has been geared to measuring need and assessing ways in which
health and social care can meet this in an economic way. Although the
political economy focus has provided valuable insights into the plight of
older people, it has led to viewing older people as a homogeneous group
who live in deprived circumstances. The economic focus has been met by
a biological one, which depicts ageing as a biological and inevitable down-
ward trajectory of physical decline. Thus older people have been regarded
as passive recipients of this economic and biological plight. However, later
life has undergone considerable change over the past 40 years, notably
due to changes to the social and cultural fabric of contemporary society
(Gilleard and Higgs, 2000). We have witnessed an increase in the num-
ber of occupational pensions, the prevalence of house ownership, women’s
employment, improvements in health and health care and in the consumer
culture encompassing all life spans (Gilleard and Higgs, 2005). This is not
to suggest that poverty, social exclusion, inequalities and physical ageing in
later life no longer exist, but it does call for research that takes these changed
circumstances into account and acknowledges that older people are a highly
heterogeneous group.
Qualitative research has been at the forefront of identifying more and
more aspects of later life, which have not been explored because they were
thought of as irrelevant to older people, such as competitive sport (Dionigi,
2006; Tulle, 2008), sexuality (Gott and Hinchliff, 2003; Potts et al., 2006;
Malta, 2012) and ICT (Jaeger, 2005). Xie (2005, p. 175) argues that there are
two reasons why ICT in later life has been ignored:
On the one hand, social gerontologists conventionally do not pay much

attention to the influence of technology on aging and later life – when
they do, they primarily focus on medical and assistive technologies, as
if those were the only technologies that mattered to older adults; on
the other hand, ICT researchers often ignore the older population, as if
computers and the Internet were young people’s business only.
(original emphasis)
Moreover, the medico-scientific lens through which researchers have viewed

later life does not consider older people’s interpretations of assistive tech-
nology. Neven (2010) uncovers how stereotypical views of older people and
later life drive the development of ambient technologies. He shows how the
older people, who acted as research participants to test the equipment, saw
the technology as something for people who were old and in need of care,
Miranda Leontowitsch 225
and not as relevant to themselves (Neven, 2010). The changes to later life
and ageing are central to understanding why older people are increasingly
rejecting the political economy and physical decline narrative (Phoenix and
Smith, 2011), and as a consequence old-age assistive technologies.
Increased healthy life expectancy and the greater resources available to
retirees has in turn led to the emergence of the ‘third age’ (Laslett, 1989;
Gilleard and Higgs, 2005), as a phase of life past employment and child
rearing, in which self-fulfilment is achieved through travel, education and
finding new social roles. This is seen as a period of life where the empha-
sis can be on different forms of self-fulfilment and activity rather than
on indolence and worthlessness. As successive cohorts of post-war adults
have retired, they have taken a ‘generational habitus’ with them and cre-
ated a more and more expansive third age based upon relative affluence
and extended opportunities for the development of lifestyles that emphasize
choice, autonomy and self-expression (Gilleard and Higgs, 2000; 2005).
Given these changed parameters, older people are more likely to engage
with and use technology in a way that will enhance their active ageing
lifestyle, as well as help them to stay active and connected. However, the
technology that allows older people to do that is not the specially developed
‘assistive’ technology, but the mainstream technology that so often is only
associated with younger age groups. A three-year ethnographic study inves-
tigating how groups of older people in Spain learnt to use email in adult
education classes (Sayago and Blatt, 2010), supports this position. One of
the central findings was that participants relished the possibility of commu-
nicating and using technology the same way as younger people did. Despite
being slower at writing emails or adding attachments, participants rejected
alternative, ‘assistive’ devices: ‘They use their glasses instead of large font
size and reject input ethnography devices alternative to the mouse, since
they want to use ICT in a similar way to their social circles’ (Sayago and
Blatt, 2010, p. 117).
Moreover, attending classes on using email proved a learning opportunity
they either had not had in many years, or had no longer expected at their
age (especially for those with low educational attainment). Email allowed
them to be in contact with children, grandchildren and friends more regu-
larly than face-to-face or telephone contact (Sayago and Blatt, 2010, p. 117).
These ideas reflect the notion of the ‘third age’ as an arena for education,
self-fulfilment as well as familiar and social connectedness. Two further qual-
itative studies by Xie (2005) and Malta (2012) also show how older people
use email and how it allows them to be connected with other people both
online and offline. Xie (2005) found that users of SeniorNet in the United
States (an online and offline community providing older people with access
to and education in ICT) expanded the aim of the service beyond educa-
tion and used the SeniorNet email to organize social gatherings. Strikingly,
she found a very similar development among older people in Shanghai who
used OldKids (also offering offline and online ICT education). Malta’s (2012)
research investigated dating and courtship in later life. The study did not
start with an online focus; however, she soon realized that it was easier
to recruit potential participants by finding them online. Moreover, the call
for participation in her study received more interest and responses by older
people on an all-age dating website than from a senior-specific one.
These research studies show that there is little to suggest that older peo-
ple are unwilling to use new technological skills if they provide a tangible
benefit to their lives. In addition, it is probable that the current grey digital
divide is merely a generational phenomenon that will disappear over time
as the next generation of older people spends more of their working lives
and recreational time surrounded by ICT (Morris, 2007; Gilleard and Higgs,
2008).
Researching older men’s lives

The lives of older men and the importance of masculinities in understanding
older men’s lives have been largely absent from ageing research, despite this
lacuna being highlighted in the mid-1990s (Thompson, 1994; Hearn, 1995;
Kosberg and Kaye, 1997). Due to the political economy perspective there
has been a larger focus on older women who, due to no or short working
lives can possess little in terms of pensions, contribute a significant amount
of care for husbands and other family members, outlive husbands, and as
a consequence often live in poverty. Older men have not been seen as a
marginalized group in need of emancipation. The relative comfort of older
men’s lives (for example, paid mortgage, living with spouse, cared for rather
than caring) underlines this argument (Calasanti, 2004). However, a fresh
approach to researching older men’s lives has been evident in recent years
(van den Hoonard, 2007).
Another reason as to why older men have been largely absent in qualita-
tive research in ageing has to do with theoretical sampling (Russell, 2007).
In theoretical sampling, the participants are purposefully selected on the
basis of their ‘authority’ on a certain topic. Thus, potential participants are
selected from settings that yield rich ethnographic data, such as nursing
homes and other care services. These settings are predominantly frequented
by women, but findings are often glossed as the views of ‘residents’ (Russell,
2007, p. 187). Even where the political economy perspective does not pro-
vide the backdrop to research, qualitative researchers’ general reliance on
theoretical sampling can lead to samples with more women than men. Suen
(2010) also highlights a reluctance of older men to participate socially, and
how this can make it more difficult for researchers to target older men for
sampling purposes.
Given these difficulties, it would appear that the Internet provides a poten-
tial to recruit older men to qualitative studies. For instance, Malta (2012) was
able to recruit an equal number of men and women to her online romance
group, and so were Sayago and Blatt (2010). There has been little to no
research specifically on the role of ICT in the lives of older men. This is sur-
prising as technology is often seen as something within the male domain,
ostensibly supporting masculinity. Indeed, there is some evidence to suggest
that men and women over the age of 55 use the Internet for different pur-
poses and in gendered ways. In a literature review on the grey digital divide,
Morris (2007) draws on UK research that indicates that men are more likely
to use the Internet for finding information and pursuing hobbies, whereas
women tend to exploit ICT for communicating with friends and family.
A UK case study of a nonagenarian and his computer by Watkins (2006)
provides rich insight into how ICT can transform an older man’s life.
Through observations and interviews involving the nonagenarian (Doug)
and family members, Watkins describes how Doug used ICT for a broad vari-
ety of purposes. Once again email emerged as a very central tool, allowing
Doug to be in contact with family members and friends on a daily basis. Fam-
ily members commented that email was an easier communication method as
it avoided many misunderstandings that had occurred over the phone. Doug
reported that using ICT allowed him to be part of contemporary society and
not a passive technophobic older person. This led him to neglect people who
did not have an email address, which meant that he was having increasingly
less face-to-face contact but more online contact. Despite this technological
independence, Doug relied on personal support when his computer was not
working, which was provided by a family member. However, any enforced
time away from his computer (such as hospitalization or technical faults)
was experienced as stressful. Although these are the experiences of one man,
they resonate with the findings of the qualitative research reported on so far.
Moreover, it suggests that a wealth of insight into older men’s lives is still to
be uncovered, and that ICT can provide a platform from which to conduct
such research.
Reflecting on qualitative research online
There are two ways in which ICT can be used in qualitative research: it
can either be used as a research tool for sampling and data collection; or
it provides the research focus (online communities, for example). The latter
approach calls for qualitative methods to be used online in order to preserve
what Mann and Stewart (2003) have referred to as the ‘contextual natural-
ness’. This allows participants to communicate in the setting and way they
are used to. Thus, qualitative interviews online can be required for different
methodological reasons, and can be conducted by using instant messaging,
email, or video-based technology, either one-to-one or in groups.
Instant messaging (IM) is a synchronous computer-mediated communi-
cation between two or more people using client programs such as MSN
Messenger, or Skype (among many more). This medium has proven very
popular since the later 1990s, though generally associated with a young
user group. IM is only possible between users of the same programme. The
researcher may therefore either need to use multiple programmes, or ask par-
ticipants to use a certain programme. In contrast, email is an asynchronous
method of online communication, as significant amount of time can elapse
between sending and receiving messages. Both communication methods can
take place publically (social networks or email lists, for instance) or semi-
privately (via personal accounts). Given the nature of the Internet a fully
private communication, such as afforded by face-to-face meetings, is not
possible. The semi-privacy of online interviews poses a challenge as elec-
tronic recordings of the interview exist in multiple locations (such as user
accounts and software providers, or website moderators) (Kazmer and Xie,
2008). For ethical reasons, it is important to inform participants about this
reduced level of anonymity and confidentiality (Grinyer, 2007). All further
considerations regarding the use of IM and email as interview tools will be
imbedded within a reflection of my own research experience.
Researching retirement
My experiences of interviewing older men online are part of a research study
that started with 20 face-to-face interviews with 18 men and 2 women from
higher executive positions who had chosen to take early retirement. The
study explored the participants’ reasons for taking early retirement and their
experiences of early retirement (Jones et al., 2010). Participants were sampled
through The Retired Executive Action Clearing House (REACH), a voluntary
organization that matches charities with retirees from professional back-
grounds, by snowball sampling, and through the Life Academy that offers
courses on planning for retirement. Potential participants needed to have
retired by the age of 57. Some participants were interviewed shortly after
retiring; others had been retired for several years. The age range of the final
sample was 49–66. Six years after the last interview was conducted, my col-
leagues and I are revisiting the participants for a second wave of interviews
to find out how they have fared in the interim. Longitudinal qualitative
research is still emerging as a methodology (Farrall, 2006) and is there-
fore rare, although it provides insights into participants’ experiences and
understandings that go beyond the snapshot approach of one-off interviews.
For the second interviews, we decided to change the way the interviews
would be conducted, and this was done for a variety of reasons. At a prac-
tical level, there were the issues of costs for travelling and transcribing. The
participants from the first set of interviews had been recruited from across
England. Although the first wave of the study had had some funding to cover
travel expenses, the second wave does not. In addition, interviews conducted
via IM and email produce automatic transcript as the communication is text
based. Transcribing is both cost- and time-intensive, and given the lack of
funding, we decided that transcribing should be kept to a minimum. Beyond
these practical reasons, the automatic transcription afforded by IM and email

avoid transcription bias and inaccuracy. Moreover, text-based interviewing
allows the interviewee to immediately see what they have said, which can
encourage reflexivity and a sense of control over how their account is later
represented in publications (Kazmer and Xie, 2008).
My colleagues and I also knew that all the participants were familiar with
email as this had been the main method of communication in the first sam-
pling process. Moreover, REACH uses a web-based database, and the call for
our research study had been posted there. Thus we knew that fourteen of the
participants had actively used the Internet to find voluntary work. A good
level of Internet use and familiarity with online communication could there-
fore be assumed, though this could not be extended to IM. The confidence
to include IM as an interview method was gained by reading Malta’s (2012)
work on interviewing older people on their romantic relationships using IM,
and Xie’s (2005) work on interviewing older men and women via IM on how
they learnt to use ICT. However, as Kazmer and Xie (2008) point out, it is
important to recognize that computer-mediated communication is best used
for interviews when the researcher and the participant find them mutually
acceptable. Therefore, we decided to offer participants a choice of either IM
or email, and, if both of these were unacceptable, to offer a face-to-face inter-
view. A telephone interview option was not provided as telephone interviews
are similarly disembodied encounters as the ones conducted online, without
providing the same benefits.
In the first instance, I contacted participants via email. If an email address
did not work, the same information was sent as a letter to the home address
provided in the first interview. This has proven to be a successful strategy and
participants contacted me via their new email address. The re-recruitment of
interviewees is still underway as I write this chapter; however, the experience
so far has been most insightful both in terms of how participants (all of
which have been men) have responded to the second invitation and to how
they have responded to the interview technique.
Responses to using online interview methods

The first email I sent to participants was quite short and was merely meant
as a way of regaining contact. Once a participant responded, I sent a more
detailed email outlining the choice of interview methods. The first time
I sent this second email, I received the following response:
I am sorry to say that the idea of instant email or Skype is a complete non-
starter for me . . . You may find some retired people who are into this kind
of modern communication but I would think they will be in a minority.
I can speak on the telephone or at a meeting and do traditional emails
etc., but I refuse to get involved with Skype, Twitter or Facebook etc.
(Participant 1)
I had used Skype as an example of an IM programme, although I had not

mentioned Twitter or Facebook.1 The abrupt nature of his email came as a
surprise to me, and after carefully re-reading my email, I concluded that in
my enthusiasm for trying out a new interview method, I had given slightly
more emphasis to IM than I had to email. A more balanced approach was
taken in the email sent to the next participant. However, another issue arose:
I think that my slow and shaky typing skills probably make instant
messaging the least effective interview method personally, but I am happy
to use face to face or email, whichever you prefer. Just select the method
that is most convenient to yourself.
(Participant 2)
His reluctance to use IM highlights how the instant transcript, that is of such
benefit to the researcher, comes at the price of the participant who is required
to do the majority of the typing instead of the person who would ordinarily
transcribe an audio-interview (Kazmer and Xie, 2008). However, the quo-
tation also shows how willing he was to use another method that would
suit me. This resonates with the altruistic reasons Mann and Stewart (2003)
describe for why people take part in online interview research. In addition, it
resonates with the ‘gentleman-like behaviour’ in interviews with older men
that I have identified elsewhere (Leontowitsch, 2012).
However, a further participant responded in yet another way. His answer
to the first reconnecting email I sent, in which neither IM or email had been
mentioned, was very proactive: ‘I am very busy at the moment and do not
have the time for an interview. If you would like to conduct the interview
by email, I would be quite happy to assist’ (Participant 3). The quotation
chimes with the discussion provided in the first part of the chapter of how
later life has become more active. Moreover, the participant comes across as
somebody who is not a passive recipient of younger generations’ requests,
but somebody who requests a contemporary method that will suit him and
his busy later life schedule.
Malta (2012) reports that some of her participants, who agreed to be
interviewed via IM, relished the opportunity to learn a new ICT skill.
This openness to extending technological knowledge was also apparent
in another response I received: ‘I’m happy to experiment with instant
messaging “tho” I haven’t used it before. I do use Skype for verbal com-
munications but have only just got the camera which I haven’t used yet’
(Participant 8).
Thus far the responses have shown that participants are open towards
being interviewed online, but that it is important to provide a choice of
methods.
Reflexivity and openness in email interviews

A notable difference between IM and email interviewing can be found in the
length of the resulting transcripts. As Malta (2012) and Mann and Stewart
(2003) have pointed out, email interviews tend to result in much shorter
documents than IM transcripts. This is put down to the interactive nature
of IM, which mirrors an offline conversation, and the asynchronous nature
of attached email interviews where the conversational ebb and flow is lost
(Malta, 2012, p. 166). However, as Meho (2006) argues, email interviews
afford participants the time to be more reflective in their replies, thereby
editing responses that make for more focused answers. Moreover, due to
the nature of the method it is acceptable for researchers to follow up inter-
views with questions. These follow-up emails also mean that the interview
gradually grows and becomes further refined and embellished. When outlin-
ing how the second interview may be conducted, I ask participants whether
they would agree to be contacted after the interview for further questions
that might arise from their responses. So far none of the participants have
objected to this or avoided it. Indeed, one participant sent me a follow-up
email before I was able to send a question:
Hi Miranda, I completed your questionnaire and sent it off whilst still

in the grip of particularly foul dose of ‘Man Flu’. Anyway I woke up this
morning finally feeling that I might live after all. Rereading my answers
it did seem a bit more downbeat than my normal mood. Plus there were
a few things you asked about which I didn’t cover off. So I am offering a
brief addition touching on the various subjects which maybe gives some
more positive long term views.
(Participant 2)
His response to the interview questions had already shown a considerable

level of reflexivity, in particular when examining his personal circumstance
in comparison with those of his adult children, and when assessing the vari-
ous voluntary work he was involved in and its wider social impact. This level
of reflexivity means that participants are being open and honest about their
experiences. Kazmer and Xie (2008) describe how IM and email interviews
allow participants to be more candid, which is particularly important for
research topics that are considered taboo. In another email interview, one of
the participants talked very openly about his issues with anxiety and how it
affected his retirement. Mann and Stewart (2003) point out that qualitative
research online can capitalize on the anonymity of the technology, which
helps participants to be open but requires researchers to protect participants.
This can be particularly helpful when interviewing men, who may avoid dis-
cussing emotions if interviewed face-to-face (Schwalbe and Wolkomir, 2003).
As the interviewees in my study were already known to me, this level of
anonymity was not provided. However, allowing the men to answer the
questions in their own time without the presence of a researcher may have
contributed to their openness.
In a reflection on my role as a younger female researcher in face-to-face
interviews involving older men (Leontowitsch, 2012), I have argued that a
mismatch in terms of age and sex between interviewer and interviewee is

advantageous in gaining rich data, despite repeated calls for an age-match
between interviewer and interviewee (Silver, 2003). This is because quali-
tative interviewing requires the interviewer to be empathic, listening and
curious. These are traits that continue to be associated with gendered ideas
of femininity, which are likely to be recognized and sought by older men
when confronted with a younger female researcher. In addition, older men’s
masculinities, whether they are more traditional (fatherly, gentleman-like)
or more contemporary (expressing emotions), can be receptive to the skills
of an interviewer who encourages openness at the same time as protecting
the interviewee’s sense of self (Leontowitsch, 2012, p. 119). Given the dis-
embodied nature of IM and email interviewing it is possible that the age
and sex of the researcher do not play such an important role. Either way, a
good level of rapport is needed in any kind of qualitative interview, although
it can be harder to achieve in online interviews. Mann and Stewart (2003)
have suggested that it helps if the researcher provides interviewees with per-
sonal information to encourage openness on both sides of the ICT interview.
An openly younger researcher may find that this leads to rich data. This is
because older men can be particularly motivated to tell their story, and to
share insights and knowledge from their lives with a younger generation.
Such opportunities are often sought by older men, but are rarely afforded
(Leontowitsch, 2012).
Conclusion
Research on ageing men with the use of ICT is still in its infancy. This chapter
set out to show how ICT is becoming an increasingly important part of
later life and therefore should not be ignored in ageing research. Moreover,
ICT (whether as a research focus or research tool) provides a vantage point
from which to gain meaningful insights into older men’s lives, which are
still largely unmapped. In addition, ICT outdoes more traditional methods
in recruiting hidden populations (Illingworth, 2001; Matthews and Cramer,
2008). Although older men are by no means a minority or hidden popula-
tion, they do appear to be a hard to reach group, and for the reasons outlined
above, have often been ignored in research.
The scope of the reflexive part of the chapter is limited due to the ongo-
ing status of the study and the characteristics of the participants, who are
all affluent and well educated, traits associated with use of ICT in later life
(Morris, 2007). Moreover, as I had interviewed participants previously, none
of the problems about verifying the identity of participants arose, nor did
issues around establishing rapport. However, embedding my experiences
within the research literature shows that IM and email are two important
methods for conducting qualitative interviews with older men. This is not
only because they encourage reflexivity and openness, but also because the
instant transcripts empower the participants to be in control over what is

being said, which is an issue in interviewing (younger) men (Schwalbe and
Wolkomir, 2003). Using ICT to research men’s experiences of later life and
ageing acknowledges the changed parameters of later life, and shows inter-
viewees that they are understood as participants in contemporary society
rather than as a residual category.
Note
1. In the resulting interview (conducted at his home), he explained that he saw Skype,
Twitter and Facebook as intrusive media. He had gained this understanding after
attending a local ICT class (one of several he had attended to improve his ICT skills)
that provided an introduction to social networking technology.
References
ABS (Australian Bureau of Statistics) (2005) ‘Use of Information Technology by Older
People’, catalogue number 1301.0, ABS, Canberra.
Calasanti, T. (2004) ‘Feminist Gerontology and Old Men’, The Journals of Gerontology,
Series B: Social Sciences, 59, S305–S314.
Centre for Digital Future (2009) ‘The 2009 Digital Future Project – Year Eight
Report: World Internet Project (WIP)’ (California: USC Annenberg School of
Communication).
Dionigi, R. (2006) ‘Competitive Sport and Ageing: The Need for Qualitative Sociologi-
cal Research’, Journal of Aging and Physical Activity, 14, 365–379.
Farrall, S. (2006) ‘What is Qualitative Longitudinal Research?’ Papers in Research
Methods, Qualitative Series, no. 11 (London: LSE).
Gilleard, C. and P. Higgs (2000) Cultures of Ageing (Harlow: Prentice Hall).
Gilleard, C. and P. Higgs (2005) Contexts of Ageing: Class, Cohort and Community
(Cambridge: Polity).
Gilleard, C. and P. Higgs (2008) ‘Internet Use and the Digital Divide in the English
Longitudinal Study of Ageing’, European Journal of Ageing, 5, 233–239.
Gott, M. and S. Hinchliff (2003) ‘How Important is Sex in Later Life? The Views of
Older People’, Social Science and Medicine, 56, 1617–1628.
Grinyer, A. (2007) ‘The Ethics of Internet Usage in Health and Personal Narrative
Research’, Social Research Update, Issue 49, University of Surrey.
Hearn, J. (1995) ‘Imaging the Aging of Men’ in M. Featherstone and A. Wernick (eds)
Images of Aging – Cultural Representations of Later Life (London: Routledge).
Illingworth, N. (2001) ‘The Internet Matters: Exploring the Use of the Internet as a
Research Tool’, Sociological Research Online, vol. 6, no. 2, http://www.socresonline.
org.uk/6/2/illingworth.html.
Jaeger, B. (ed.) (2005) Young Technologies in Old Hands: An International View on Senior
Citizens’ Utilization of ICT (Copenhagen: DJOF Publishing).
Jones, I.R., M. Leontowitsch and P. Higgs (2010) ‘The Experience of Retirement in
Second Modernity: Generational Habitus among Retired Senior Managers’, Sociology,
44, 102–120.
Kazmer, M. and B. Xie (2008) ‘Qualitative Interviewing in Internet Studies: Playing
With the Media, Playing With the Method’, Information, Communication and Society,
11, 257–278.
Kosberg, J. and L. Kaye (1997) Elderly Men: Special Problems and Professional Challenges
(New York: Springer).
Laslett, P. (1989) A Fresh Map of Life: The Emergence of the Third Age (London:
Weidenfeld and Nicolson).
Leontowitsch, M. (2012) ‘Interviewing Older Men’ in M. Leontowitsch (ed.) Research-
ing Later Life and Ageing – Expanding Qualitative Research Horizons (Basingstoke:
Palgrave Macmillan).
Malta, S. (2012) ‘Using Online Methods to Interview Older Adults about their Roman-
tic and Sexual Relationships’ in M. Leontowitsch (ed.) Researching Later Life and
Ageing – Expanding Qualitative Research Horizons (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan).
Mann, C and F. Stewart (2003) ‘Internet Interviewing’ in J. Holstein and J. Gubrium
(eds) Inside Interviewing – New Lenses, New Concerns (London: Sage).
Matthews, J. and E. Cramer (2008) ‘Using Technology to Enhance Qualitative Research
With Hidden Populations’, The Qualitative Report, 13, 301–315.
Meho, L. (2006) ‘E-mail Interviewing in Qualitative Research: A Methodological
Discussion’, Journal of American Society for Information Science and Technology, 57,
1284–1295.
Millward, P. (2003) ‘The “Grey Digital Divide”: Perceptions, Exclusion and Barriers of
Access to the Internet for Older People’, First Monday, 8 (7), www.firstmonday.org/
issues/issue8_7/millward/index.html.
Morris, A. (2007) ‘E-literacy and the Grey Digital Divide: A Review With Recommenda-
tions’, Journal of Information Literacy, 1 (3), http://jil.lboro.ac.uk/ojs/index.php/JIL/
article/view/RA-V1-I3-2007-2.
Neven, L. (2010) ‘ “But Obviously Not for Me”: Robots, Laboratories and the Defiant
Identity of Older Test Participants’, Sociology of Health and Illness, 32, 335–347.
Nimrod, G. (2009) ‘Seniors’ Online Communities: A Quantitative Content Analysis’,
The Gerontologist, 50, 382–392.
ONS: Office of National Statistics (2011) ‘Internet Access – Households and Individu-
als’, www.ons.gov.uk/ons/publications/.
Ofcom (2010) ‘UK Adults’ Media Literacy – Interim Report’, http://stakeholders.ofcom.
org.uk/market-data-research/media-literacy/archive/medlitpub/medlitpubrss/
adultmedialitreport/.
Pfeil, U. and P. Zaphiris (2009) ‘Investigating Social Network Patterns Within an
Empathic Online Community for Older People’, Computers and Human Behaviour,
25, 1139–1155.
Phoenix, C. and B. Smith, B. (2011) ‘Telling a (Good?) Counterstory of Ageing: Natural
Bodybuilding Meets the Narrative of Decline’, Journals of Gerontology, Series B, Social
Sciences, 66B, 628–639.
Potts, A., V. Grace, T. Vates and N. Gavey (2006) ‘ “Sex For Life?” Men’s Counter-stories
on “Erectile Dysfunction”, Male Sexuality and Ageing’, Sociology of Health and Illness,
28, 306–329.
Russell, C. (2007) ‘What do Older Women and Men Want? Gender Differences in the
Lived Experience of Ageing’, Current Sociology, 55, 173–192.
Sayago, S. and J. Blatt (2010) ‘Telling the Story of Older People E-mailing:
An Ethnographical Study’, International Journal of Human-Computer Studies, 68,
105–120.
Schwalbe, M. and M. Wolkomir (2003) ‘Interviewing Men’ in J.A. Holstein and J.F.
Gubrium (eds) Inside Interviewing: New Lenses, New Concerns (London: Sage).
Silver, C. (2003) ‘Gendered Identities in Old Age: Towards (De)Gendering?’, Journal of
Aging Studies, 17, 379–397.
Suen, Y.T. (2010) ‘Reflecting on Studying Older Men’s Lives: Thinking Across Bound-
aries’ in M. Harrison and P. Ward (eds) Beyond Borders: Masculinities and Margins
(Tennessee: Men’s Studies Press).
Thompson, E. (1994) Older Men’s Lives (London: Sage).
Tulle, E. (2008) Ageing, the Body and Social Change: Running in Later Life (Basingstoke:
Palgrave Macmillan).
van den Hoonard, K. (2007) ‘Aging and Masculinity: A Topic Whose Time Has Come’,
Journal of Aging Studies, 21, 277–280.
Wang, C., Y. McLee and J. Kuo (2011) ‘Ten Years of Digital Divide Studies – Themes
Concepts and Relationships’, International Conference on Social Science and
Humanity, IPEDR vol. 5 (Singapore: IACSIT Press), http://www.ipedr.com/vol5/no1/
68-H00150.pdf.
Watkins, R. (2006) ‘A Nonagenarian and His Computer: An Analysis of a Socio-
Technological Network’, unpublished Masters dissertation, University of Sterling.
Xie, B. (2005) ‘Getting Older Adults Online: The Experience of SeniorNet (USA) and
OldKids (China)’ in B. Jaeger (ed.) Young Technologies in Old Hands: An International
View on Senior Citizens’ Utilization of ICT (Copenhagen: DJOF Publishing).
18
Using Visual Methods to Hear Young
Men’s Voices: Discussion and
Analysis of Participant-Led
Photographic Research in the Field
Cliona Barnes
Introduction
This chapter offers a critical reflection on methodological choices, which

highlight essential questions about the way in which we conduct research
with young men. It documents the use of visual methods (Harper, 2002;
Bloustien and Baker, 2003; Pink, 2007; Conolly, 2008; Packard, 2008;
Woodley-Baker, 2009) to generate discussion about men and masculinities
in the Irish national context, and, in doing so, addresses issues around
power, representation and the research process. Photo-elicitation, grounded
in the theoretical field of visual sociology1 , was the primary research method
employed in a small-scale, school-based, participant-led study focused on
the everyday lived experience of young Irish masculinities2 (see Barnes,
2010, 2011). This technique is widely recognized as being of great value in
conducting research with young people and in research situations where the
power differential between researcher and researched is particularly marked
(Heath et al., 2009, pp. 116–131). Awareness of the impact of differences in
gender, age and social-class positions in the researcher–participant relation-
ship is at the fore in both childhood (Prout and James, 1990; Gallacher and
Gallagher, 2008) and youth research (Conolly, 2008; Dentith et al., 2009;
Heath et al., 2009; Hopkins, 2010).3 It has also long been a key concern
in the field of visual sociology where ‘participatory visual research methods
have been developed as part of an explicit attempt to decrease the power dif-
ferential between the researcher and the researched’ (Packard, 2008, p. 63).
My approach to this study was informed by this growing body of work,
which focuses on the possibilities of participatory visual methods as a way
of acknowledging and addressing the power inequalities existent in research
with young men.
236
Cliona Barnes 237
Background to the study
This chapter draws from larger research focusing on the daily lives, expe-
riences and social contexts that structure and shape the understandings
and constructions of classed and gendered identities among two groups of
young, white, Irish schoolboys, from both working-class and middle-class
backgrounds in the Irish city of Limerick (Barnes, 2010). The 20 partici-
pants were aged 15 and 16 and all were in full-time, mainstream education.
The research was conducted in two co-educational schools: St Pious’ School,
located in a socially and economically deprived city neighbourhood, and
Forthill School,4 situated in a comfortable, middle-class suburb. The partici-
pants were purposively selected (Patton, 2002, p. 46) via their schools within
the research parameters of age (15–16), gender (male) and social-class back-
ground. The research fieldwork began with introductory meetings between
the researcher and two groups of potential participants at which the research
aims and process were discussed and consent and information forms read
through and distributed. At this point, the young men were informed of the
steps that would be taken to guarantee their anonymity, and of their right
to not take part, or to leave the research at any point. This was strongly
emphasized as the understanding of ‘consent’ can become conflicted where
research is conducted in a school setting. Issues around power and informed
and willing consent can and do arise where students are, in a sense, a ‘captive
sample’ (Conolly, 2008, p. 207; see also James et al., 1998, p. 176; McDowell,
2003, p. 110, p. 237). In this instance, every effort was made to ensure young
men did not feel compelled to participate.
The fieldwork consisted of two recorded photo-elicitation group inter-
views that were conducted on school premises during the school day. These
were supported by a task-based photographic project, which was carried out
by the young men over a period of two weeks. The interviews were unstruc-
tured allowing for informal discussion of a range of topics related to men and
masculinities in the Irish context. Two sets of images were used, one in each
photo-elicitation interview. The first set consisted of media images selected
by the researcher, the second was made up of the photographs produced by
the young men themselves (see Heath et al., 2009, pp. 119–123 for discus-
sion of different types of visual materials). There is not scope here to discuss
the findings generated through discussion of both sets of images (Barnes,
2010); thus, in order to emphasize the quality of the engagement with this
active photography element of the research, I will focus on discussion of the
participant-generated images.
Relationships in the field
In designing the research for this study, a number of key methodological

issues were flagged from the outset, with particular focus on the gender and
238 Using Visual Methods to Hear Young Men’s Voices
power differentials between the adult, female researcher and the young male
participants. Critical awareness of gender in the field is particularly acute
here in the context of critiques of the male-centricity of youth research
and the sometime problematic relationship constructed between the male
researcher and male participants. Delamont (2000) and Skeggs (1992) both
offer strong criticisms where the collapsing of distance between the male
researcher and young male participants occurs, leading to the researcher
falsely imagining himself to be a member of the group. In critiquing two
key studies of young masculinities, both conducted by male researchers,
Delamont (2000, p. 99) problematizes Sewell’s (1997) self-proclaimed abil-
ity to ‘chill’ with his teenaged participants, while Skeggs (1992, p. 191)
highlights Willis’ (1977) failure to challenge the sexist and racist attitudes
and behaviours demonstrated by his participants. This loss of critical focus,
Skeggs (1992) argues, arises from his absorption into the group. Indeed, his
participants describe him as ‘one of us’ (Willis, 1977, p. 197), a position
unchallenged and un-reflected upon by him. As a female researcher work-
ing with young men, ‘fictitiously dissolving the division between the self
and other’ (Back, 1993, p. 222) is simply not possible for me. A critical
awareness of our differences is present, grounded in the reflexive under-
standing shared by Packard (2008, p. 65) and McDowell (2003). As McDowell
(2003, p. 111) explains, we as researchers cannot and ‘ . . . do not belong
to the group we study, we may not know enough to ask the right ques-
tions.’ I approach young men as a cultural outsider, with demonstrably
different experiences, social knowledge and expertise. I acknowledge these
differences and the associated lack of knowing as being both positive and
productive.
Awareness of the obvious distance between us, in terms of gender, age and
power, is positive in that it prevents over-identification with participants in
the problematic ways critiqued by Delamont (2000) and Skeggs (1992). Such
over-identification is also experienced, and reflected upon, by Frosh et al.
(2002) in their study of young British masculinities. In the following extract,
Rob Pattman (Frosh et al., 2002, p. 18) describes his feelings towards one
young participant following their interview:
I felt a bit annoyed with him for the way he distinguished himself from
the ‘wrong crowd’ or the boys who played football and messed around,
and I imagined myself as one of those boys thinking he was a snob . . . I am
not sure why I felt so antagonistic to him when he mentioned saying
‘Shhh’ to those boys who spoke while the teacher was talking in class.
Surely I should admire him for having the self-confidence to be able to do
this?
Pattman’s (Frosh et al., 2002) honest reflection here underlines Delamont’s

(2000, p. 99) concern regarding the ‘celebratory view of the anti-school
Cliona Barnes 239
boy’ that is still evident in youth research. It also highlights the difficulties
that can arise through over-familiarity and over-identification with partic-
ipants. Awareness of our differences positions me as ready to learn from
participants, actively seeking their experiences and knowledge. Accomplish-
ing this requires ways of doing research that are necessarily participatory
and genuinely inclusive. Qualitative research is informed primarily by par-
ticipants’ voices and, as such, it is dependent on the depth and quality of
their engagement with the researcher and the research process (Clark, 2008,
p. 954). Thus, it is essential that research methods are not only productive
and informative both for the researcher and participants, but also engaging,
interesting and even fun (Conolly, 2008, p. 210).
Fieldwork was designed to overcome two potential difficulties in engaging
young men in the research process. The first of these stems from the widely
shared and influential perceptions of young men as inarticulate and unwill-
ing to talk: understandings brought into, and often replicated by, young men
themselves (Frosh et al., 2002, pp. 22–24). Understanding ‘talking’ as a fem-
inized act can lead young men to feel anxious about engaging in discussion
in a serious manner, particularly in the group context that can lend itself to
performing ‘defensive versions of masculinity’ (Robb, 2007, pp. 123–124).
However, as will be discussed in more detail in relation to the analysis of
the photographs produced by the young men, this can be overcome with
appropriate methodological considerations.
Young men’s anxiety about departing from the group script of acceptable
masculinity (Barnes, 2011) is also very closely linked to the second poten-
tial issue here – that of young men’s responses to and perceptions of the
female researcher. Extensive research has been carried out into what con-
stitutes successful or hegemonic young masculinities in the school setting.
This work has powerfully demonstrated that a certain amount of resistance
to, and subversion of, the established power structures in school is a core part
of hegemonic masculinities in the classroom (Frosh et al., 2002; Francis and
Skelton, 2005; Martino and Pallotta-Chiarolli, 2005; Jackson, 2006; Barnes,
2011). Due to my age, gender and link to academia, the young men tended,
at the outset, to position me as a teacher-figure, thus, initially, replicating the
strict teacher–student hierarchy and creating the necessity for the group to
disrupt that relationship through humour, non-cooperation and distraction.
It was essential for me to undo the association of the research with school-
work, or risk non-participation in and/or resentment of the fieldwork. This
process of disassociation was initiated immediately through establishing an
informal atmosphere – normal classroom seating arrangements were aban-
doned in favour of a large table to sit around; only first names were used;
I intervened as little as possible in terms of seeking quiet and avoided asking
direct questions that could be construed as didactic. My lack of intervention
led to a certain amount of chaos at the outset, however, as the young men
realized that I was not trying (or indeed able) to ‘make’ them be quiet, they
settled of their own accord, their interest piqued by the box of cameras and
stacks of newspaper images.
Photo-elicitation
The cameras and images were part of the primary research method of photo-
elicitation. As noted, both researcher-selected (from newspapers and maga-
zines) and participant-generated photographs were used. Photo-elicitation
‘is based on the simple idea of inserting a photograph into a research
interview’ (Harper, 2002, p. 13). Images work as prompts for participants
to share their experiences and understandings. ‘Elicitation’ refers to the
way in which a photograph or image operates as a point of departure for
the interviewee (Harper, 2002). Kolb (2008) describes four stages in photo-
elicitation interviewing. The opening stage involves the introduction of
the research question to the participants as the whole process ‘invites par-
ticipants to answer a research question by taking photos and explaining
their photos to a researcher’ (Kolb, 2008, p. 3). The second stage is the
active photo-shooting stage where participants create their own images.
The third stage is the decoding stage where participants consider and dis-
cuss their images with the interviewer and the rest of the group. The final
stage is the analysis and interpretation stage where the researcher analyses
the data produced in the first three stages, including the images and tran-
scripts of the interview groups. The four stages are now discussed in more
detail.
Stage one
In the first group interview the research question was introduced via an
unstructured discussion of popular portrayals of young masculinities centred
on a series of researcher-selected media images. Following lively discus-
sion, in which the key issues raised, were the ‘unreality’ of images such as
advertising models, sportsmen and film stars and a lack of representation
of ‘normal’ young men due to an over-focus on troublesome and criminal
young masculinities (Barnes, 2010), participants were tasked with making
their own representations of masculinity. At this point, each young man
received a basic, disposable flash camera with 39 exposures. Each camera
was numbered and marked against the group list for identification purposes.
At this stage, time was also allowed at this stage for questions and practice
shots (see Figure 18.1).
The simplicity and ubiquity of the disposable camera is vital for the cre-
ation of a more equal and collaborative research space as it removes the need
for the researcher to ‘teach’ or instruct participants in order for them to take
part (Packard, 2008, pp. 64–65). Avoiding this was, as noted, a particular
concern for me in this context.
Cliona Barnes 241
Figure 18.1 A practice shot taken at Forthill school
Stage two
The ‘active photo shooting phase’ (Kolb, 2008, p. 6) saw participants tak-
ing the cameras for a period of between ten days and two weeks. Following
development of the films by the researcher, the photographs were returned
to the young men a few days before the final discussion groups. This enabled
the removal of any photos that participants decided not to share. Reflect-
ing some of the practical difficulties associated with this method (see Heath
et al., 2009, p. 128), not all of the cameras were returned, with five reported
lost, broken or confiscated. Fifteen cameras overall were developed yielding
rich images and narratives. Photos showed places visited alongside images
of the objects that make up the material culture of young masculinities –
including I-pods, game consoles, mobile phones, designer clothing, toiletries
and sports equipment. Approximately 350 images were developed offering a
unique view of what young men consider to be representative of contempo-
rary youth masculinity. A selection of these images, chosen by participants,
formed the basis for the final discussion groups.
Stage three
In the photo-elicitation interview, the participant takes on the expert role,
introducing their own world and speaking authoritatively about their own
life. At first, both groups of young men were somewhat hesitant as they are
not used to talking about or reflecting on their everyday lives in a context
outside of their regular interactions with friends, teachers and family. Fur-
ther to this, the personal nature of the discussion of gender identity clashes
with the demands of an acceptable presentation of masculinity in the group
context (Robb, 2007). This conflict was, however, mediated by the famil-
iar and comfortable routine of showing and sharing photographs and the
majority took great care to explain their images to the researcher, often at
great length. Their fluency and desire to elaborate about their photos belies
the popular portrayal of young men as inarticulate and unforthcoming in
Figure 18.2 Patrick’s community centre and community bus
conversation (Frosh et al., 2002, p. 22). Such enthusiasm can be seen in the
following extract and images, wherein Patrick, a St Pious student, explains a
series of three of his photos, none of which appear particularly interesting,
but which, with his narrative, offer an alternative view of young working-
class masculinity that is at odds with narrow and limiting media portrayals
(Figure 18.2).
Patrick: And that is the outside of the Community Centre.

Interviewer: Ok, so this is yours and Kyle’s Community Centre?
Patrick: Yeah!
Interviewer: And so what goes on in there?
Patrick: It’s like where they give the meals to the elderly and do the bingo
and do clubs in the evening time and as well for primary school kids
and I help out there.
Interviewer: Brilliant, and you help out there at the bingo?
Patrick: Yeah, I do calling (the numbers) all the time.
Interviewer: Excellent, do you help out at any other parts of it?
Patrick: I help down at the Friday Night Club (FNC).
Interviewer: You help in the FNC? Is that for younger kids as well?
Patrick: It is for our age and older, for pool and stuff.
Interviewer: Oh right but you would be helping out? Excellent, alright
what’s your next one?
Patrick: This is outside the community centre clubs.
Interviewer: So this is the other side of the community centre?
Patrick: (laughing) Yeah that’s like the front (pointing to the previous pic-
ture) door you go in at and that’s like the side door. And (pointing to his
next picture) and that’s the (community) bus.
Interviewer: Excellent and what is the (community) bus?
Patrick: It’s for the community and like say if you were organizing to go
somewhere like that is the bus that you would like get and it goes around
and collects people for bingo and everything.
As noted, the transcripts from both discussion groups go against common

perceptions of young men as inarticulate. They demonstrate that when
young men are asked to be part of a process that is designed to be engag-
ing, actively participative and of interest to them, their participation is
Cliona Barnes 243
enthusiastic. Of course, reflecting both personality differences, confidence

levels and status within the peer-group hierarchy (Frosh et al., 2002; Jackson,
2006; Barnes, 2011), not all of the young men were as forthcoming in their
speech. However, even the most reluctant participants selected and described
at least two images in the group setting.
The transcripts also present a challenge to the way in which useful ‘talk’
(Frosh et al., 2002, p. 19) is understood in the context of research. The
young men in this study told sexist jokes and stories. They teased each
other, shouted silly things and exaggerated attitudes for the sake of being
provocative and getting a laugh. However, at the same time, they expressed
genuine opinions, hopes and anxieties that are often, necessarily, camou-
flaged beneath a layer of joking and hyper-masculine bravado (Kimmel,
1994). Ignoring or, indeed, over-focusing on sexist jokes or silly stories risks
not hearing young men’s voices as we are too busy waiting for them to ‘take
it seriously’. What this suggests, as discussed by Frosh et al. (2002, p. 19),
is that researchers need to work hard, and sometimes struggle, to hear what
young men are saying. Importantly, this does not advocate a lack of chal-
lenge on the part of the researcher when faced with problematic attitudes,
but encourages an understanding of what experiences may underlie such
expressions. It also highlights the importance of understanding the value of
different types of useful ‘talk’ (Frosh et al., 2002, p. 19).
Stage four
The final phase occurs after the group interviews when the images and the
narratives are analysed and interpreted by the researcher in the context of
the discussion transcripts and in interaction with existing theorizing and
research on young masculinities. This follows the participant reading of
the images and offers a new layer of data for exploration. In many cases,
as in the previous extract, specific photos were the direct focus of richly
descriptive talk. Here, without overtly trying for, or seeking this outcome,
Patrick’s images and narratives dispel the popular stereotype of the socially
disconnected, fearsome ‘hoodie’, replacing it with a shaven-headed, tough-
looking 16-year-old who calls the bingo numbers and helps at the youth
club. However, the photographs were also used to perform and reproduce
more traditional forms of young masculinities, particularly in relation to the
disparagement of femininity (Barnes, 2011). In relation to images taken of
the young women in school, the participants were unrelentingly sexist, rat-
ing them in terms of sexual attractiveness rather than referring to them in
terms of friendship. In response to a query from me as to whether or not
they were friends with girls, the following exchange occurred at Forthill:
Gavin: We don’t get on with the girls in school.

Interviewer: What? That can’t be true?
David: It is but [interrupted]
Unknown5 : We would get on them though [laughter].
Such talk and comments by the young men show the reliance on reinforc-
ing and continually referencing heterosexual desire, activity and prowess
that is at the heart of ‘being normal’ in the context of young, school-going
masculinities (Martino and Pallotta-Chiarolli, 2005). Failure to join in or
at least laugh is often enough to be marginalized by the group. Kimmel
(1994, p. 133) highlights this impetus to exaggerate masculinity by mak-
ing reference to heterosexual activity, linking it to a fear of appearing gay,
and thus weak and feminized, in the eyes of others. Further examples
of this continual need to reference heterosexuality were seen in relation
to photographs of computers, which immediately prompted references to
watching pornography and masturbation; photographs of bedrooms led to
discussion of ‘action’ seen there; and items of clothing were described as
‘pimp style’. The appearance of such comments was to be expected fol-
lowing Robb’s (2007, p. 124) discussion of ‘performance masculinities’ in
the group setting. These deliberately exaggerated and provocative com-
ments are understandable in this context, as well as being illustrative of
existing, problematic attitudes among the group, particularly in relation to
young women and homosexuality. Following the laughter and crude jokes,
which followed the short exchange above, several of the Forthill partici-
pants were slightly embarrassed and searched through their images to show
me pictures of ‘cool girls’ that they sometimes ‘hang out with’ as well as
sought to explain themselves in relation to their sometimes negative atti-
tudes to young women their own age (see Barnes, 2011 for a discussion of
disparagement of femininities in this study).
Conclusion: Using visual research methods

to hear young men
In this research, the photography task functioned not just to provide data,
or to elicit issues for discussion, but worked as part of an overall method-
ological approach based around a critical understanding of young men as
able, competent social actors whose reflections and interpretations of their
own lives and experiences are of great value (James et al., 1998; James and
James, 2004). It was equally based around an awareness of the potential bar-
riers, which may prevent the sharing of such reflections and interpretations
in the field. The research methods were thus chosen to maximize opportuni-
ties for knowledge creation and exchange between a female researcher and
young male participants.
The widely shared belief that men shouldn’t ‘talk’ has, as Frosh et al.
(2002) note, been internalized by many young men to the point that the
act of talking, particularly about identities, emotions or feelings, is now
wholly associated with the feminine. Such an association has been power-
fully shown, in a range of studies of young, school-going masculinities, to
be a marker of low status within the group (Frosh et al., 2002; Francis and
Cliona Barnes 245
Skelton, 2005; Martino and Pallotta-Chiarolli, 2005; Jackson, 2006; Barnes,

2011). In this research context, the familiar act of sharing their images gave
participants confidence and a sense of entitlement to speak in a way that is
unlikely to have occurred in response to direct questions from me. Indeed
it is well established that photo work of this kind encourages the produc-
tion of new knowledge that is ‘unlikely to be captured through an interview,
focus group or questionnaire’ alone (Heath et al., 2009, pp. 126–128; see also
Packard, 2008, p. 63).
Being seen to be too enthusiastic in answering questions from the
‘teacher/researcher’ in a group context holds the same connotations as
talking freely about emotions or feelings, marking a young man out as
‘soft’ or ‘swotty’, characteristics that are incompatible with successful young
masculinities in a variety of contexts (Jackson, 2006). Thus the combina-
tion of an informal, unstructured discussion group, led by images created
by the young men themselves, via an enjoyable activity (Conolly, 2008),
worked to create research conditions in which young men may feel com-
fortable and thus able to enjoy speaking out about their masculinity. This
is important for, as Packard (2008, p. 74) notes, ‘expecting to have your
voice heard and opinion count is a learned skill’. The boys at Forthill and
St Pious are not used to being asked about their masculinities in a research (or
indeed in any other) context and the somewhat abstract nature of the over-
all enquiry greatly benefited from being grounded by a practical, accessible
and collaborative methodological approach.
The process of showing and telling with the resulting images allowed them
to engage comfortably and fluently with key topics related to public dis-
course about young men, such as debates around the social implications
of value-laden clothing such as hoodies and related public perceptions of
young men. The simple request to take the cameras and to photograph,
whatever they understand to be representative of themselves and of their
peers (Packard, 2008, p. 68), gave the young men an opportunity to chal-
lenge and recalibrate dominant representations of young masculinities in
the public sphere. Challenging narrow, limiting and negative representa-
tions was a key aspect of the research and the young men in both schools
demonstrated keen awareness of the problematic way in which young
masculinities are portrayed in the media in particular. Both groups were
eager to show me what, as Kyle at St Pious put it, ‘real, normal young lads’
are like. Their images with their accompanying explanations and narratives
productively enabled this showing.
Their photographs also worked to fill in gaps in the knowledge of a cul-
tural outsider such as myself, pointing towards interests and concerns that
may not have been considered in the initial stages of the research. Indeed,
the young men’s open interest in personal grooming products such as
hair gel, aftershave and hair colouring was not expected (Figure 18.3 is a
representative of a large number of similar images).
(a) (b)
Figure 18.3 Hair gel, deodorant and aftershave
O’Connor (2008, p. 12) notes that we . . . bring our gender identity into
being by performing various kinds of behaviour . . . that are currently labelled
masculine or feminine’. Young men construct and perform their masculine
identities according to the currently dominant gender order in the society
that they live in (Connell, 2005, p. 13) and while there has been some loos-
ening of strict social roles and social expectations for men and women,
in Ireland, the gender order is still predicated on a very traditional binary
structure that positions masculinity as ‘strong, active, hard, rational’ and
femininity as ‘weak, passive, soft, emotional’ (Kehily, 2001, p. 117). How-
ever, within this, it appears from the photographs and narratives that there
has been a certain ‘loosening up’ around what constitutes appropriate or
acceptable masculine interests.
Finally, giving cameras to the young men also opened spaces that are
otherwise closed to research and to researchers. Bloustien and Baker (2003,
p. 70) note that the use of cameras ‘ . . . allows access to aspects of everyday
life that in ordinary fieldwork circumstances the ethnographer might not
be privileged to see’. Indeed, it would not have been possible, or desirable,
for me, as a female researcher, to physically gather the data provided by
the young men’s photographs. The practical and ethical difficulties involved
in, for example, visiting the homes of young men, seeing their bedrooms,
or visiting their hangout spots are simply prohibitive (Bloustien and Baker,
2003, p. 71). Accompanying participants in this way would not only dilute
their perspective evident in the selection and framing of objects, places and
people, but also change the spaces in which they move. My presence was
not necessary, nor would it have been productive. The young men were
delighted to be ‘trusted’ with the cameras and the level of consideration and
effort evident in the majority of the photos is reflective of their positive atti-
tude towards, and engagement with, the research question. In this research,
photo-elicitation as a method was demonstrably successful in overcoming
potential barriers to the full and willing participation of young men. It is not,
as Frosh et al. (2002, p. 24) note in their discussion on the success of their
own research strategy, claimed as some ‘magic approach . . . which allowed
Cliona Barnes 247
normally inarticulate boys to find a voice’. Rather, the method is illustrative

of the importance of understanding and appreciating the particular sensitiv-
ities that await every interaction with research participants, and exemplify
the importance of methodology in creating research conditions that facil-
itate young men’s active and positive involvement so that their voices are
heard.
Notes
1. See Packard (2008, pp. 64–65) and Kolb (2008, pp. 4–6) for an outline of the history
of the use of visual methods in the social sciences.
2. This research was funded by the Irish Social Sciences Platform (ISSP) under the
Irish Government’s Programme for Research in Third Level Institutions, Cycle 4
(PRTLI4) and was undertaken at the Department of Sociology and the Institute for
the Study of Knowledge in Society (ISKS) at the University of Limerick, Ireland.
3. See Hopkins (2010, pp. 28–34) for an introductory outline of different approaches
to research with young people.
4. All locations and named individuals throughout have been assigned pseudonyms.
5. Often such statements are made in such a way as to make it difficult to identify
who spoke.
References
Back, L. (1993) ‘Gendered Participation: Masculinity and Fieldwork in a South London
Adolescent Community’ in D. Bell, P. Caplan and W.J. Karim (eds) Gendered Fields:
Women, Men and Ethnography (London: Routledge).
Barnes, C. (2010) Young Masculinities, Class and Community: A Comparative Perspective
Across Local Boundaries (Irish Social Sciences Platform Project Report 2008–2010,
unpublished).
Barnes, C. (2011) ‘A Discourse of Disparagement: Boys’ Talk about Girls in School’,
Young: Nordic Journal of Youth Research, 19, 5–23.
Bloustien, G. and S. Baker (2003) ‘On Not Talking to Strangers: Researching the
Microworlds of Girls through Visual Auto-Ethnographic Practices’, Social Analysis,
47, 64–79.
Clark, T. (2008) ‘ “We’re Over-Researched Here!”: Exploring Accounts of Research
Fatigue within Qualitative Research Engagements’, Sociology, 42, 953–970.
Connell, R.W. (2005) ‘Growing Up Masculine: Rethinking the Significance of Adoles-
cence in the Making of Masculinities’, Irish Journal of Sociology, 14, 11–28.
Conolly, A. (2008) ‘Challenges of Generating Qualitative Data with Socially
Excluded Young People’, International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 11,
201–214.
Delamont, S. (2000) ‘The Anomalous Beasts: Hooligans and the Sociology of Educa-
tion’, Sociology, 34, 95–111.
Dentith, A.M., L. Measor and M.P. O’Malley (2009) ‘Stirring Dangerous Waters:
Dilemmas for Critical Participatory Research with Young People’, Sociology, 43,
158–168.
Francis, B. and F. Skelton (2005) Reassessing Gender and Achievement: Questioning
Contemporary Key Debates (London: Routledge).
Frosh, S., A. Phoenix and R. Pattman (2002) Young Masculinities: Understanding Boys in
Contemporary Society (London: Palgrave).
Gallacher, L.A. and M. Gallagher (2008) ‘Methodological Immaturity in Childhood

Research? Thinking Through Participatory Methods’, Childhood, 15, 499–516.
Harper, D. (2002) ‘Talking about Pictures: A Case for Photo-Elicitation’, Visual Studies,
17, 13–26.
Heath, S., R. Brooks, E. Cleaver and E. Ireland (2009) Researching Young People’s Lives
(London: Sage).
Hopkins, P.E. (2010) Young People, Place and Identity (London: Routledge).
Jackson, C. (2006) Lads and Ladettes in School: Gender and a Fear of Failure (Berkshire:
Open University Press).
James, A., C. Jenks and A. Prout (1998) Theorising Childhood (Cambridge: Polity).
James, A. and A.L. James (2004) Constructing Childhood: Theory, Policy and Social Practice
(Basingstoke: Palgrave MacMillan).
Kehily, M.J. (2001) ‘Issues of Gender and Sexuality in School’ in B. Francis
and C. Skelton (eds) Investigating Gender: Contemporary Perspectives in Education
(Buckingham: Open University Press).
Kimmel, M. (1994) ‘Masculinity as Homophobia: Fear, Shame and Silence in the
Construction of Gender Identity’ in H. Brod and M. Kaufman (eds) Theorizing
Masculinities (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage).
Kolb, B. (2008) ‘Involving, Sharing, Analysing – Potential of the Participatory Photo
Interview’, FQs, 9, 1–25.
Martino, W. and M. Pallotta-Chiarolli (2005) Being Normal is the Only Way to Be: Ado-
lescent Perspectives on Gender and School (Sydney: University of New South Wales
Press).
McDowell, L. (2003) Redundant Masculinities: Employment Change and White Working-
Class Youth (London: Blackwell).
O’Connor, P. (2008) Irish Children and Teenagers in a Changing World: The National Write
Now Project (Manchester: Manchester University Press).
Packard, J. (2008) ‘ “I’m Gonna Show You What It’s Really Like Out Here”: The Power
and Limitations of Participatory Visual Methods’, Visual Studies, 23, 63–77.
Patton, M.Q. (2002) Qualitative Research and Evaluation Methods, 3rd edn (California:
Sage).
Pink, S. (2007) Doing Visual Ethnography, 2nd edn (London: Sage).
Prout, A. and A. James (1990) ‘A New Paradigm for the Sociology of Childhood?
Provenance, Promise and Problems’ in A. James and A. Prout (eds) Constructing and
Reconstructing Childhood (London: Falmer).
Robb, M. (2007) ‘Gender’ in M. J. Kehily (ed.) Understanding Youth: Perspectives,
Identities and Practices (London: Sage).
Sewell, T. (1997) Black Masculinities and Schooling (Stoke on Trent: Trentham Books).
Skeggs, B. (1992) ‘Paul Willis, Learning to Labour’ in M. Baker and A. Beezer (eds)
Reading Cultural Studies (London: Routledge).
Willis, P. (1977) Learning to Labour: Why Working Class Kids Get Working Class Jobs
(Hampshire: Gower Publishing).
Woodley-Baker, R. (2009) ‘Private and Public Experience Captured: Young Women
Capture Their Everyday Lives and Dreams Through Photo-Narratives’, Visual Studies,
24, 19–35.
Index
Abberley, P., 146 Baker, M., 236, 246

ableism, 146–8 Baker, S., 236, 246
Abu-Lughod, L., 16, 103–5, 108 Banister, P., 145
academic ‘classics,’ 31 Barnes, Cliona, 17, 19, 145, 146, 236–47
Acker, S., 16 Beard, K. W., 209
Adams, T. E., 13 Beasley, C., 2
Addis, M. E., 1, 115 Begum, N., 146
Agar, M., 197 ‘belaying,’ 131
ageing, research on, 224 Benhabib, S., 4
focus on assistive technology, 224–5 Bennett, E., 7
agency, issue of, 11 Bertaux, D., 162
Aguayo, F., 174 Bertaux-Wiame, I., 162
Ahmed, S., 18, 199–202, 204, 206 Bilge, S., 11
Allen, K., 8, 47 biographic life story interviews, 215–16
Allen, L., 27, 81, 87 biographical writing, 30, 160–3
Allison, A., 110 Black, Conrad, 161
Almack, K., 211 Blackmore, J., 78
Al-Makhamreh, S. S., 7 Blackwood, E., 104
Althusser, L., 199 Blagden, N., 188, 190
Alvesson, M., 99 Blatt, J., 225, 227
Andersson, K., 198 Bloor, M., 8, 30, 69, 72, 111–12
Andrews, M., 71 Bloustien, G., 236, 246
anonymity, 28, 198, 228, 231, 237 Boonzaier, F., 203
see also confidentiality in interviews, Booth, R., 130
issue of The Border Boys, 53, 55
anthropology, 197 Bordo, S., 79
Arendell, T., 7, 78 Boulden, W., 209
Arthur, S., 146 Bourdieu, P., 134, 135
Ashe, F., 43, 91 Bourriaud, N., 215
Ashford, C., 13 Bowles, G., 4, 117
Ashkenazi, M., 110 Bradbury, H., 212
assistive technology, 224–5 Bradley, M., 30
Atkinson, P., 1, 5, 42 Brannen, J., 66, 73
ATUS, see Australian Time Use Survey Braun, V., 86
(ATUS) Bredstrom, A., 11
Australia, 118–26 Brickell, C., 91–2
Australian Time Use Survey (ATUS), Bridges, Tristan, 14, 53–62
119–24 Bright, Zoe, 15, 77–88
autobiographies, 30, 160–3 Brittan, A., 12
autoethnography, 30, 130–1 Broom, A., 7, 67, 70, 73–4
Browne, K., 12–13
Back, L., 238 Brown, S., 6
Bagilhole, B., 6 Bryant, L., 10–11
Bain, Alison L., 3 Burr, V., 184
249
250 Index
Butera, K. J., 6 Cramer, E., 232

Butler, J., 4, 204 Crapanzano, V., 113
Byrne, A., 81 Crenshaw, K., 10
Crick, M., 113
Cahill, C., 211 ‘critical autobiography,’ 65
Calasanti, T., 226 ‘critical dialogue,’ 8
cameras, 240–1, 245–6 critical disability studies, see disability
Campbell, E., 7–8, 35 studies, qualitative research
Campbell, F. K., 147 critical reflection, 32
Canaan, J., 40, 43 Critical Studies on Men and
Cardon, P., 13 Masculinities (CSMM), 26–36
Carr, D., 81 autobiographical writing, 30
Carrington, B., 136 future of, 35–6
Catani, M., 160 epistemology, 31–4
Cavanagh, K., 198–9, 200, 205 interviews and interviewing,
Chalmers, S., 109 27–9
Christensen, A., 10 textual analyses, 30–1
‘chulear,’ 179 critical theory, 13, 143
Clarke, A. E., 92 Cronin, A., 210
Clark, T., 239 Cross, S., 6
Clatterbaugh, K., 2, 184 Crossley, P., 42
Clunis, M. K., 209 CSMM, see Critical Studies on
Coates, J., 185, 187 Men and Masculinities (CSMM)
Coffee Morning focus group probes, Culter, S., 112
216–18 Cummerton, J. M., 3
Cohen, R. L., 4, 116, 117 Cunningham-Burley, S., 6
Cohen, S., 210 Curato, N., 1, 6
Cole, Catherine, 17, 142
Collinson, D. L., 31, 97, 130 Danieli, A., 145
Collins, P., 10 Dasgupta, Romit, 15, 103–13
Collusion D’Augelli, A. R., 209
with heterosexism, 72 dating, commodification
with sexism, 9, 27, 54–5, 62, 71 of, 80
commercial same sex, 2 Davidson, J. O., 71
‘compassion fatigue,’ 192 Davidson, K., 8
confidentiality in interviews, issue of, Davies, D., 66
28, 9–10, 190–1, 228 D’Cruz, H., 48
see also anonymity Degele, N., 10
‘connectivity,’ 214 Delamont, S., 1, 5, 42, 238
Connell, R. W., 8, 30, 99, 105, 118, 134, de la Rey C., 203
147, 149, 157–60, 166, 170, 172–3, Demetriou, D., 2
174, 180 Dentith, A. M., 236
Connolly, K., 186, 191–2, 194 Denzin, N., 162
Conolly, A., 236, 237, 239, 245 DeVault, M. L., 53
Conrad, E., 5 De Vaus, D., 118
‘contextual naturalness,’ 227 ‘dialectic of control,’ 8
Conti, J. A., 176 Di Fulvio, G. T., 210
Cook, J. A., 116 Digby, T., 91
Cowburn, Malcolm, 9, 18, 28, 43–4, Dionigi, R., 224
183–95, 198–200 disability politics, 149–50
Index 251
disability studies, qualitative research exit interviews, 62

centrality of embodiment, 149 extreme sports, 131
disabled child, 150–2
disabled/non-disabled researcher, face to face interviews, 82
145–6 failing interviews, 95–7
experimentations with masculinity, Farrall, S., 228
150–1 Farran, D., 117
normative desires, 152–3 fatherhood, 197
pen portraits of narrators, 144–5 Fawcett, B., 43
transgressive narratives, 151–2 Fellows, M., 45
disablism, 146–8 feminism, 39
disclosure, male, 66–70 backlashes against, 2
discrimination, in disablism, 146–8 research, 40–2
distress management, 188–91 listening to concerns, 44–5
of research team, 191 feminist critique of masculinist
Donaldson, Mike, 17, 157–67, 170–2 research, 3–5
Doucet, A., 48 responses by male scholars
Dougherty, D., 44, 45 to, 5–6
Douglas, P., 39 feminist research, rise of, 3–5
Downs, C., 147, 148, 153 feminists, disabled, 142
Dowsett, G. W., 86 feminity, talking, 244–5
Dreher, T., 45 Fenge, Lee-Ann, 18, 209–20
Duelli-Klein, R., 4, 117 Ferguson, P. M., 145
Duncan, D., 86 Fernqvist, S., 95
Dworkin, A., 192 Ferrarotti, F., 160
Ferree, M. M., 10
Edwards, R., 3, 65, 79 fictive reality, 214
Egeberg Holmgren, L., 15, 29, 90–9 Figley, C., 192
Elder, G., 162 Finch, J., 70
elites, 11, 29 Fine, M., 93, 100
anxieties about power imbalance, 176 Flood, Michael, 9, 14, 43, 46, 64–74,
sociology of, 171 118, 122, 187, 198
email interviews, 225, 228 Fonow, M. M., 116
reflexivity and openness in, 230–1 Foster, J., 53
Ellsworth, E., 45 Fotopoulou, A., 12
emancipator research, 41, 48, 71, 145 Francis, B., 239, 244–5
emotional engagement, 186–92 Frankenberg, R., 69
strategies to address costs of, 194–5 Franklin, A., 118
empiricists, 31–2 Franklin, M. B., 185, 188
Engels, F., 161 Fraser, R., 161–3
England, P., 118 Fredriksen-Goldsen, K. I., 209
epistemology, 31–4, 185–6 Frosh, S., 238–9, 242–4, 246
profeminist, 42–4 Fuller, N., 170, 178
ESRC Festival of Social Science, 219
Etowa, J. B., 211 Gadd, D., 200–1
ethics, 45, 46, 61, 71, 95–9, 190–1 Gailey, J. A., 7, 85
of interviewing, 109–10 Galasinski, D., 117
ethnography, 4, 57, 62, 197 Gallacher, L. A., 236
ethnomethodology, 197 Gallagher, M., 236
Ewing, D. W., 91 Gardiner, M. E., 129
252 Index
Garfinkel, H., 197 Guttman, M. C., 172

Garg, A., 7 Guys for Gender Justice, 53
Garland Thomson, R., 150 issues of intimacy and masculinity, 56
Gatrell, C., 7, 29
The Gay and Grey project, 211–13 Halberstam, J., 12
Gay News, 215 Halewood, P., 40, 43–4, 47
The Gay and Pleasant Land? project, halfie’ research, 103–5, 108, 112
213–15 Hall, A., 133
‘generational habitus,’ 225 Hankivsky, O., 10
gender dynamics Hanmer, J., 31, 40, 43
context, 73–4 Harding, S., 3, 12, 33, 42, 44, 47, 65, 143,
diverse ways to do, 73 145, 184
‘gender identity work,’ 73 Harper, D., 236, 240
and other axes of social difference, 74 Harris, F., 7, 69, 73, 74
gender equality, 39 Harris, Greg, 147
gender inequality, and homosexuality, Harvey, W. S., 171
58–9 Haug, F., 30
gender theory, 92 Haverkamp, B. E., 83
gender, ‘doing,’ 91–2 Hawley, J., 167
The German Ideology, 161 Haywood, C., 6, 12, 15, 77–87
Ghai, A., 142 Heady, B., 118
Giddens, A., 82 Hearn, Jeff, 2, 5, 9, 14, 26–35, 43, 46, 90,
Gilding, M., 170, 171, 174, 176, 177 97, 130, 183–4, 186, 193, 200–1,
Gilleard, C., 224–6 203, 204, 207, 226
Gill, F., 7 Heath, S., 236, 237, 241, 245
global financial crisis, 158 Hebert, L. A., 77
Glucksmann, M., 72 hegemonic masculinity, 2, 42, 73
Goffman, E., 91, 92, 98, 100 reconstituted, 87
Golden, A., 117 in ‘ruling class,’ 171–3
Golombisky, K., 7 strategic, 78–9
Goodley, Dan, 17, 142–53 Heikes, E. J., 6
Goodman, J., 49 Hemmings, C., 12
Gorman-Murray, A., 17 Hendry, J., 113
Gott, M., 224 Herising, F., 49
Gottzen, Lucas, 18, 197–207 hermeneutics of faith, 93
Gough, B., 112 hermeneutics of suspicion, 93
Grace, F., 112 Herod, A., 78
Graduate Journal of Social Science, 12 Hesse, A., 77, 192
Graham, H., 116 Hesse-Biber, S. J. N., 77
Grant, J., 43 heteronormativity, appearance of, 111
Gray, A., 210 heterosexual masculinity, 81–2
Green, A. I., 91 referencing by youth, 243–4
Green, G., 7 Hewlett, B. S., 197
‘grey digital divide,’ 223 Heywood, I., 131–2
Griffin, C., 40, 43, 117 Hickey-Moody, A., 151
Grinyer, A., 228 Higgs, P., 224
Grossman, A. H., 209 Highmore, B., 129
Grundy, J., 13 HILDA, see Household Income and
‘groundwork laying,’ 106–7 Labour Dynamics in Australia
Gubrium, J. F., 81, 92 Survey (HILDA)
Index 253
Hillier, L., 68 insider/outsider dichotomy

Hinchliff, S., 224 in Japan, 104, 107–12
Hissam, A., 209 in rock climbing, 136–40
Hochschild, A., 163 in study of ruling-class men in Chile,
Hockey, J., 132, 138 176–7
Hodgson, J., 80 Instant Messaging interviews, 227–8
Hoffman, E., 82 reflexivity and openness in, 230–1
Holland, J., 29, 81 interpretative authority, 93, 95–7
Holliday, R., 13 intersectional theory, 3, 10–13
Holmgren, L. E., 1, 7, 15, 29, intersectionality, in gender research, 26,
90–100 33, 34–6, 108, 116, 125
Holstein, J. A., 81, 92 interviewees, anxieties of, 27
homophobia, 72, 73, 134, 209 interviews and interviewing, 27–9
homosexuality and ageing, study of face to face, 82
biographic life story interviews, failing, 95–7
215–16 male bonding, 28
Coffee Morning focus group probes, powerful men, 29
216–18 interviews
social connectedness, 210–11 gender of researcher, 80–2
The Gay and Grey project, harassment, 85
211–13 ‘speed dating,’ 80–5
The Gay and Pleasant Land? project, intimacy
213–15 changing nature of, 80
homosexuality, 111–12, 17 and masculinity, 56–62
and sexual inequality, 58–9 Iwasaki, Y., 210, 211
homosocial interaction,
66–70 Jackson, C., 118, 239, 243, 245
homosociality, 66–71, 110, 205 Jackson, D., 8, 30, 47, 66
Hoon, E., 11 Jaeger, B., 224
Hooper, C., 2 Jaggar, A. M., 77
Hopkins, P. E., 1, 236 Jagose, A., 12
Horn, R., 7, 9, 39, 54, 65, 122 James, A. L., 236, 237, 244
Household Income and Labour Japan, 103–12
Dynamics in Australia Survey Jardine, A., 91
(HILDA), 118–25 Jefferson, T., 204
social connection and disconnection, Jensen, S. Q., 10
121–2 Johnson, A., 45
social exclusion, 118–26 Johnston, J., 49
household labour, 7 Jones, I. R., 228
Hughes, C., 4, 116 Jones, Kip, 18, 209–20
Hulse, K., 118 Jones, M., 6, 42, 48
Hydén, M., 199, 206 Jones, S. H., 13
hyphen, 93, 97 Josselson, R., 93, 94
co-fielding practices, 93–5 Journal of Lesbian Studies, 12
impairment, 146–7 kachi-kan, 110

information and communication Kahn, J. S., 186
technologies (ICTs), see older men, Kanter, R. M., 117
online research of Kaomea, J., 84
‘information extraction,’ 185 Kaye, L., 226
254 Index
Kazmer, M., 228–31 Liamputtong, P., 190

Kehily, M. J., 246 Liddiard, K., 151, 152
Kelly, L., 70, 72, 144 Liinason, M., 12
Khan, J. S., 7 Linneman, T. J., 213
kigyô senshi, 105 Livholts, M., 3
Killacky, J. R., 151 Lloyd, J., 45
Kimmel, M., 243, 244 Longhurst, R., 5
King, A., 210 Ludvig, A., 11
Kirsch, G. E., 113 Luker, K., 54
Klein, R., 41 Lumsden, K., 7
Kohli, M., 159 Lundgren, E., 91
Kolb, B., 240–1 Lunsing, W., 111
Kondo, D. K., 103, 104, 108
Koro-Ljungberg, M., 92 Mac an Ghaill, M., 6, 12, 15, 77–87, 187
Kosberg, J., 226 Mackie, V., 105
Kozlowska, O., 117 Maclean, C., 7
Kremer, B., 5, 42 Macleod, C., 1, 43
Kremer, E., 200 Madrid, Sebastian, 17–18, 170–80
Kremer-Sadlik, T., 198 Maguire, P., 42
Kristeva, J., 199 Making the Difference, 159
Kulick, D., 110 Mallett, R., 142
Kulpa, R., 12 Malta, S., 224–5, 229–31
Kwan, M., 126 ‘managerial masculinities,’ 30–1
Manchester Metropolitan University,
Lahman, M. K. E., 13 144
Lalor, J. G., 185, 190, 191, 194 Mandell, N., 14, 54–5
Langness, L. L., 145 Manderson, L., 7
language, 185–6 Mandy Rice-Davies principle of
emotional need to connect, 188–91 methodology, 161
male games, 186–90; and gender of Mann, C., 227, 230–2
researcher, 187 Markowitz, F., 110
Lather, P., 3, 5 Marks, D., 142–3
Lawson, V., 4, 116, 117, 125 Martin, J., 146
Layder, D., 71 Martino, W., 239, 244–5
‘least adult role,’ 54–5 Marx, K., 161
‘least-masculine role,’ 14, 53–6, 59, 61–2 ‘masculine self,’ 54
LeCompte, M. D., 209 masculinism, ‘successor science’ to, 3
LeCouteur, A., 203 ‘masculinity challenge,’ 54
Lee, D., 7, 29, 65, 71, 200 Masculinities, 166
Lee, R. M., 73 masculinity, ‘ruling class,’ 171–3
Lennie, J., 212 Matthews, J., 232
Leontowitsch, M., 18, 223–33 Mauthner, M., 48
lesbians, 104, 130, 211–12, 214–15 Maynard, M., 12
Letherby, G., 126 McCall, L., 10
Levine, H. G. 145 McCarry, M., 198
Levinson, B., 42 McCarthy, L., 209
Levitas, R., 118 McCready, L. T., 11
Lewando-Hundt, G., 7 McDowell, L., 7, 10, 11, 108, 113, 237
Lewis, G., 9 McGinn, M., 185
Lewis, R., 198, 199, 200, 205 McKee, L., 65, 66, 67, 69, 71
Index 255
McKeganey, N., 8, 111, 112 Nash, C. J., 12–13

McLaughlin, J., 144 Nayak, A., 136
McRuer, R., 147, 153 Nelson, V., 159
Meah, A., 132 Neven, L., 224–5
Meho, L., 231 New Dynamics of Ageing, 214
memory work, 30, 41 Newton, E., 104
Men Can Parent Too, 53, 55 Newton, J., 94
issues of intimacy and masculinity, nice, politics and ethics of, 97–9
56–62; homosexuality, 58–9; racial Nicholls, R., 46
inequality, 60–1 Nietzsche, F., 91
men interviewing men, 27, 66–7, 69–70 Nilan, P., 2
accountability to women’s interests, Nimrod, G., 223
47–8 Noble, G., 1
men Noble, J. B., 79
elite, 11, 29 non-disclosure, male, 67
homosexual, 12, 34, 45–6
violence to women and children, see Oakley, A., 7, 70, 116–17
violence against women, study of objectification of body, 84–7
white and straight, 11, 43, 44, 45–6 objectivity, 35–6, 43
Mercer, G., 17 in research, 43, 116
Messerschmidt, J. W., 54, 105, 170, O’Brien, M., 65, 66–7, 69, 71
172–3, 178 O’Connor, P., 246
Messner, M. A., 12, 43, 170, 172, 178 Odendahl, T., 29
methodologies, Mandy Rice-Davies Odette, C., 148
principle of, 161 O’Donnell, P., 45
Methods to Diversity, 219 O’Fallon, J. M., 44
metonymy, 83–4 Office of Population Censuses and
Meuser, M., 205 Surveys (OPCS) surveys, 146
Meyer, I. H., 210 Ohnuki-Tierney, E., 108
Middleton, P., 30 Olavarría, J., 170, 172
Mies, M., 41 older men
Millar, J., 118 absence in qualitative research in
Millman, M., 117 ageing, 226
Millward, P., 223 internet in research of, see older men,
misogyny, 9 online research
Monaghan, L. F., 87 and use of internet, 223–6
Morgan, D., 5, 6, 26, 31, 43, 46, 65, 171 older men, online research of; 18,
Morrell, R., 163, 170 227–33
Morris, A., 178, 226, 227, 232 responses to 229–32
Morris, J., 142 and young female researcher, 231–2
Moss, P., 4 OldKids, 225–6
Mróz, L., 81 Oliffe, J., 81
‘mundane extremities,’ 131–6 Oliver, M., 146
Muraco, A., 209 Olkin, R., 142
Murdoch, Rupert, 158, 161 O’Neil, M., 176
Musson, G., 84 online interviews, 81–2
ontologies, 34–5, 184–6
Nader, L., 171 OPCS surveys, see Office of Population
Narayan, K., 103, 104, 108, 113 Censuses and Surveys (OPCS)
Nare, L., 11 surveys
256 Index
otokorashisa, 111 power, defined, 99–100

Oxlad, M., 203 Poynting, S., 17, 157–67, 170, 171, 172
prejudice, in disablism, 146–8
Packard, J., 236, 238, 240, 245, 247 The Presentation of Self in Everyday
paedophiles, 202 Life, 91
Pallotta-Chiarolli, M., 239, 244, 245 Presser, L., 200, 203, 205
Parker, D., 7 Price, J., 149
Parlow, S. B., 79 privilege, male, 70–2
participative action research (PAR), privileged groups, 44–6
211–12 Probyn, E., 5
participatory visual methods, in study of profeminism, 39
men and masculinities, 236–47 and epistemology, 42–4
advantages of, 244–7 profeminist interviewee, 30, 36, 90–100
background, 237 power practices, 93–8
gender and age of researcher, 237–40 profeminist interviewer, 36, 39–48, 71–2
photo-elicitation, 236, 240 Prohaska, A., 7, 85
Pascoe, C. J., 54 ‘proper interview’ vs ‘feminist
patriarchy, 1, 18, 44, 78–9 interview,’ 7
Patterson, A., 80 Prout, A., 236
Pattman, R., 238 Pugh, A. J., 54
Patton, M. Q., 237
Patulny, Roger, 16, 115–26 qualitative research, 27, 42, 92, 186
Peake, L., 117, 185, 187 appropriateness for feminist research,
Pease, Bob, 1–19, 30, 39–49, 77, 91, 116–7
165, 198 emotional framing of data-collection,
Pemberton, S., 188, 190 186–90
Peplau, L., 5 longitudinal, 228
Pfeil, U., 223 quantitative methodologies
‘performance masculinities,’ 243–4 areas of contention for feminists,
performance of selves, 91–2, 94 116–7
Performative Social Science, 214 drawbacks of, 121
performativity, 91–2 social connection and disconnection,
Pheterson, G., 45 121
Philaretou, A., 8, 47 social exclusion, 118–26
Phoenix, A., 68, 117 social time, 122
Phoenix, B., 225 Queer Methodologies, 13
Phoenix, C., 225 queer theory, 3, 12–13
photo-elicitation, 236 Quinlan, K., 144
Pillow, W. S., 3, 5
Pini, Barbara, 1–19, 73–4, 83, 95, 115–26, Rabinow, P., 113
178, 200 racial inequality, issues of intimacy,
Pink, S., 236 60–1
Plummer, K., 108, 175, 211 Rabinow, P., 113
‘political disempowerment,’ 212 rationalists, 31–2
Popoviciu, L., 1, 3, 43 Razack, R., 45
positionality, 14, 117 REACH, see The Retired Executive Action
positivism, ‘three Ps’ of, 116, 117 Clearing House (REACH)
postcolonial theory, 33 Reason, P., 212
post-structuralism, 4 Rees, T., 118
Potts, A., 224 Reeve, D., 148
Index 257
‘reflexive engagement,’ process of, Ross, K., 176

183–4, 186 Roussel, J. F., 147, 148, 153
reflexivity, 46–7, 65, 74, 97, 117, Rowan, J., 46
132–3, 231 Rufus Stone (2012), 214, 217–18
regression analysis, 119, 124 projected impact of, 218–20
Reich, J. A., 6, 172 Ruling Class Men, 157–67
Reilly, R. C., 186, 191–2, 194 ruling-class men in Chile, study of
Reisz, M., 218 background of interviewees, 175–6
Renzetti, C. M., 73 contact, 174–5
re-readings, 30–1 elite schools, 173
research assistants, 191 gender dynamics, 178
research relationships, 80–2 insider/outsider dichotomy, 177, 179
researcher power dynamics, 176–8
impact on, 191–2 sexuality, 178–9
and male language games, 186–90, ‘traditional oligarchy,’ 175
193–4 women, 174
ontology, 184–6 younger generation, 173–4
researcher ruling-class men, study of
older female, 112 challenges of, 158–9
relations with researched, 32–3 life history approach, 159–61;
researcher, and gender of, 6 autobiographies and biographies,
female, 237–40 160–3; ‘found life histories,’
male, 8–10; empathy issues, 9; power 163–6; gaps in study, 166–7;
issues, 9 interviews, 160–1, 171; pointers
researcher, as ‘insider/outsider’ for future research, 166–7; ‘ruling
in Japan, 104, 107–12 class traitors,’ 163; ‘saturation,’
rock climbing, 136–40 162, 166; ‘three generations rule,’
study of ruling-class men in Chile, 160, 166–7; truthfulness, 160–2
176–7 ‘ruling class’
The Retired Executive Action Clearing defined, 159, 172
House (REACH), 228 hegemonic masculinity, 171–3
Riley, S., 7 patterns of masculinity, 172–3
Ristock, J. L., 210, 211 ‘ruling class traitors,’ 163
Robb, M., 77, 239, 241 Runswick-Cole, K., 142–53
Roberts, H., 3, 117 Russell, C., 29, 226
Robertson, S., 65, 73, 74, 87 Ryan, C. C., 44
Robinson, Victoria, 1, 16, 43, 129–40 Ryan, L., 117
rock climbing Ryan-Flood, R., 12, 13
close male friendships, 131 Ryang, S., 104, 108
heterosexuality, 132 Ryder, B., 44
insider/outsider dichotomy, 136–40
masculinities in transition, 133–4 ‘salaryman,’ masculinity in, 105–6
‘mundane extremities,’ 131–6 Salerno, R., 167
reflexivity, 132–3, 135–6 Sallee, M. W., 7, 69, 73, 74
research sample, 130–1 Salvage, A., 146
shifts for climbers, 132 Sandberg, L., 29
Rooke, A., 12 sarariiman, 105
Roper, M., 110 Sattel, J., 54
Rosenberg, T., 12 ‘saturation’ process, 162, 166
Rosenfield, D., 210 Saugeres, L., 118
258 Index
Saunders, P., 118 Smith, B., 149, 225

Sayago, S., 225, 227 Smith, D. E., 91
Schacht, S. P., 10, 28, 72, 91 Smith, M., 13
Schippers, M., 173 Smith, P., 91
Schrock, D., 27 Snodgrass, J., 30
Schütz, A., 199 snowboarding, masculinities in
Schwalbe, M., 2, 27, 54, 73–4, 78, 84, transition, 134
179, 231, 233 social connectedness, 210–11
Schwanen, T., 126 social connection and disconnection,
Schwenger, P., 30 quantitative research on, 121–2
SCI, see spinal cord injuries (SCI) social desirability bias, 6–7
SCOPE, 144 social equality, 2
see also violence social exclusion, quantitative research
Scott, J., 4, 117, 206 on, 118–26
Scully, D., 66, 71 social theory, 33–4
self-referencing, 86 social time, quantitative research on,
self-reflexivity, 33, 46, 112 122–4
Seminarium, 173 ‘sociology noir,’ 158
SeniorNet, 225 Sollund, R., 206
‘sensitive’ research, 73 Song, M., 7
Sewell, T., 238 Sparkes, A. C., 149
sex offenders, male, 9–10 speed dating, 15, 80–92
sex research, 73 spinal cord injuries (SCI), 149
sexism, 179 sporting masculinities, 130–1
in interviews, 7, 70–2 standpoint theory, 32–3, 42–4
sexual harassment, in interviews, 7 Stacey, J., 94
sexual inequality, and Stanko, E. A., 53
homosexuality,58–9 Stanley, L., 3, 41, 65, 116
sexual lives, research, 66 Stewart, F., 227, 230–1
sexual violence, 28 ‘stigma contagion,’ 73
Shaffir, W. B., 108 St Pierre, E. A., 3, 5
shakaijin, 105–6, 107 Strange Encounters, 199
Shakespeare, T., 143–5, 147–8, 150 strangers, 199
Shapiro, A., 118 fetishism, 199–200
Sharp, G., 200 violent men as, 202–4
Shaw, A. M., 29 strategies, for interviews, 27–8, 47–8,
Shildrick, M., 149 69–70
Shilling, C., 139 subjectivity, 35–6, 42, 46–7, 84
Shokeid, M., 210 Suen, Y. T., 226
Showden, C. R., 12 Sundberg, J., 5, 43
Shuttleworth, R., 11 supervisors, 191
Sikweyiya, Y., 72 ‘sympathetic’ interviewing, 70–1
Silverman, D., 69
Simmel, G., 199, 205 ‘talk,’ useful, 243
Sirin, S. R., 93 Tallberg, T., 28
Skeggs, B., 238 Tamboukou, M., 206
Skelton, C., 2 Teman, E. D., 13
Skelton, F., 239, 245 Tepper, M. S., 147, 150–3
Sköldberg, K., 99 Terry, A., 200
Slevin, K. F., 210, 213 Terry, G., 86
Index 259
textual analyses, 30–1 Wadsworth, Y., 41, 48

issues of intimacy and masculinity, Walby, K., 2, 65, 73, 82, 83
56–7 Walby, S., 10, 186
Thapar-Björkert, S., 104–5, 108 wa Mungai, N., 42
‘third age,’ 225 Wang, C., 223
Thomas, C., 143, 146, 148 Warner, D. W., 13
Thomas, W. I., 159–61 Warren, D., 118
Thompson, E. P., 172, 226 Watkins, R., 227
Thompson, P., 159 Weeks, J., 2, 8, 210
Thomson, G., 150 Weiss, R. S., 54
Thorne, B., 54 Wendell, S., 153
Thorne-Finch, R., 39 West, C., 92, 96, 197
Thorpe, H., 130, 132, 134, 136, 138 Westmarland, N., 126
Thumala, M. A., 171, 173–4 White, A., 146
Thurston, R., 42 Whorley, M. R., 1
Tietze, S., 84 Wickramasinghe, M., 42, 46
Tolson, A., 172 Wight, D., 68
Touraine, A., 30 Wilkerson, A., 151
‘traditional oligarchy,’ 175 Williams, C. L., 6
transcribers, 191 Williams, J. R., 117
Tranter, B., 118 Willis, P., 238
truthfulness, 160–2 Willott, S., 35
Tsuda, T., 108 Wilson, M., 110
Tulle, E., 224 Winchester, H. P. M., 95, 97
Turner, W., 12 Winker, G., 10
Wise, S., 3, 41, 65, 116
Usher, R., 79 Wittgenstein, L., 185
Wolkomir, M., 2, 27, 54, 73, 74, 78, 179,
Valentine, G., 10, 11 233
‘validation hermeneutics,’ 83 women researchers, 29, 66–7, 69–70
van den Hoonard, K., 226 female interviewee, 27, 70–1
Vanderbeck, R. M., 2 feminist interviewee, 29
Verbrugge, L., 205 intimidation by male interviewees,
‘vicarious trauma,’ 192 200
violence against women, study of, 28, Woodhams, C., 145
183, 197–9 Woodley-Baker, R., 236
challenge of presentation, 192–3 ‘Woodward-Bernstein principle of
and emotional engagement, 186–90; verification,’ 162
strategies to address costs of, working-class masculinity, 158
194–5
epistemology, 185–6 Xie, B., 224–5, 228–31
interviewers’ vulnerability, 199–202
stranger fetishism, 199–200 Yeon Choo, H., 10
violent men as familiar, 205–7 Yllo, K., 116
violent men as strangers, 202–4, Young, R. A., 83
206–7 Yuval-Davis, N., 125
violence, 183
see also violence against women, Zaphiris, P., 223
study of Zarb, G., 146
visual sociology, 236 Zimmerman, D., 91, 92, 96, 197
Viveros, M., 170, 172, 178 Znaniecki, F., 159–61

(Genders and Sexualities in The Social Sciences) Barbara Pini, Bob Pease - Men, Masculinities and Methodologies-Palgrave Macmillan (2013)

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

(Genders and Sexualities in The Social Sciences) Barbara Pini, Bob Pease - Men, Masculinities and Methodologies-Palgrave Macmillan (2013)

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Men, Masculinities and Methodologies

Genders and Sexualities in the Social Sciences

Genders and Sexualities in the Social Sciences

List of Illustrations vii

1 Gendering Methodologies in the Study of Men and

2 Methods and Methodologies in Critical Studies on Men

3 Epistemology, Methodology and Accountability in Researching

4 Issues of Intimacy, Masculinity and Ethnography 53

5 Negotiating Gender in Men’s Research among Men 64

6 Making Connections: Speed Dating, Masculinity and

7 Gendered Selves, Gendered Subjects: Interview Performances

8 Conversations about Otokorashisa (Masculinity/‘Manliness’):

9 Counting Men: Quantitative Approaches to the Study of Men

10 Ongoing Methodological Problematics: Masculinities

9.1 HILDA – social exclusion (% 1 item+) by marital/parental

9.1 Regression models, social connection and exclusion: HILDA

We are grateful to Michelle Singh for providing editorial support in the

Cliona Barnes is a researcher in sociology. Her research interests include the

Tristan Bridges is Assistant Professor of Sociology at The College at

Zoë Bright currently works in the School of Education, Communication

Malcolm Cowburn is Professor of Applied Social Science and Principal Lec-

Romit Dasgupta is Assistant Professor in the Discipline of Asian Studies

Lee-Ann Fenge is Associate Dean for postgraduate students at Bournemouth

Michael Flood is a sociologist at the University of Wollongong. His research

Dan Goodley is Professor of Disability Studies and Education at the Univer-

disablism. Recent publications include Disability Studies: An Interdisciplinary

Lucas Gottzén is Assistant Professor in Social Work at Linköping University,

Chris Haywood is Director of Postgraduate Studies in the School of Arts and

Jeff Hearn is Professor in Gender Studies (Critical Studies on Men),

Linn Egeberg Holmgren has a PhD in Sociology from Uppsala University,

Miranda Leontowitsch is Honorary Lecturer in Qualitative Research Meth-

Máirtín Mac an Ghaill works at Newman University College, Birmingham.

Sebastián Madrid is a PhD candidate at the Faculty of Education and Social

Roger Patulny is Lecturer in Social Research Methods in the Sociology Pro-

Barbara Pini is Professor in the School of Humanities, Griffith University.

Scott Poynting is Professor of Criminology in the Department of Sociology

Victoria Robinson is Reader in Sociology at the University of Sheffield.

Katherine Runswick-Cole is Research Fellow in Disability Studies and

Critical studies of men and masculinities have developed significantly over

of gender inequality and is not informed by a commitment to egalitar-

The feminist critique of masculinist research

Research on men and masculinity by male researchers must be understood

As feminists continued to question the epistemological and methodolog-

Responses by male scholars to the feminist critique

feminist-informed methodologies in researching profeminist men, he felt

Methodological issues in women researching men

A proportion of the literature on women researching men has focused on

(as female/male interviewers, respectively) in independent studies about

introduces ‘two “new” methodological principles – “critical dialogue” and

Methodological issues in men researching men

Weeks (1996) identifies a new interest by men in telling personal stories

thus need to be reflexive about the ways in which hegemonic forms of

researcher is less likely to elicit uncensored accounts of sexual offending, or

Connecting theory and methodology: Emerging insights

Intersectional theory emerged as feminism was faced with the challenge to

be a useful approach to uncovering some of the complexities and con-

might learn. It seems, as Warner (2004, p. 334) answers in reply to an

Overview of the book

is required about the diversity of ways in which gender is performed in

engages the rubric of ‘halfie’ from Abu-Lughod (1991, p. 137) to describe

As foregrounded earlier in the chapter, questions of how to research the

international symposium linking lessons from HIV, sexuality and reproductive

Kulpa, R and M. Liinason (2009) ‘Queer Studies: Methodological Approaches. Follow