Abstract
This paper details a narrative analysis strategy called critical resistance analysis (CRA). The aim of a CRA is to bring forward the kinds of subjects participants draw on when talking about themselves in narrative interviews and to make explicit how those subjects are resisted and desired. The CRA is distinguished from other narrative analyses of self in that it focuses on resistance in both its structural, anti-hegemonic and ‘poststructural’, self-refusal forms. The latter kind of resistance is what Hoy (2005) refers to as ‘critical’ resistance; the desire to undo oneself. A CRA looks for participant resistance in narrative and antenarrative (Boje, 2001) data. Antenarratives are incomplete stories that are often too fragmented to analyze using traditional narrative methods and can be seen as powerful examples of meaning-making in progress. A CRA newly brings an antenarrative understanding to the study of self in four analytic foci: deconstruction trace, discourse-argument, resistance and intersubjectivity analysis. Together these analytic foci reveal the subjects narrative participants seek (not) to be and afford a more complex understanding of how participants struggle with and against themselves.
Introduction
In the latest version of the Handbook of Qualitative Inquiry, Chase (2011) broadly describes narrative research as inquiring into the experiences of those who narrate their lives. Beyond this understanding, there exists a wide variety of approaches and aims of narrative research (Chase, 2011). One important aim concerns understanding the ‘selves’ of narrative inquiry in which researchers seek to shed light on identity struggles as constituted in stories (e.g., McAdams, Josselson and Lieblich, 2006) and the ways in which stories of ‘self’ disrupt oppressive social discourses (e.g., Abes, 2008). Narrative inquirers who focus on the narrated self are therefore especially concerned with individual conflict and resistance. Their work engages questions like: ‘Why do some people resist, while others submit?’, ‘What does resistance look like?’, and ‘What are resistance’s effects?’.
Seeking answers to these questions first requires an understanding of what is meant by resistance. Resistance can be seen as occurring between oneself and a dominant social structure (based on social class, race, gender, and so on) and/or as a refusal to being identified as oneself in the first instance. The former critical structural account of resistance assumes an opposition between dominance and resistance and those who do the dominating and those who struggle against domination (Connell, 1995; Giddens, 1991). This dualist approach casts domination as negative and is, for example, most clearly delineated in early, second-wave feminist accounts of patriarchy as a social structure in which women are subordinated to men (e.g., Friedan, 1963; Millett, 1970). The latter resistance, what Hoy (2005) terms critical resistance, refers to the process of undermining oneself. Critical resistance is the desire of the falling apart of self, ‘straying afield from oneself’, (Foucault, 1990: 8), risking oneself (Butler, 2002), or ‘dissolving oneself’ (Hoy, 2005: 90). Drawing on the work of Foucault and Butler, Hoy explains the resistive role of critique ‘functions not by providing an alternative account of who you are and what you ought to do, but by dissolving your sense of who you are and disrupting your sense of what the right thing to do is’ (2005: 89). Critical resistance follows a poststructural account of power as productive, as involved in the creation of identities and as coextensive with domination. That is, resistance is understood simultaneously as a reaction to domination and as a production of domination and vice versa (Foucault, 1988).
A structural model of resistance against dominance is typically used in narrative research to study the ways in which participants’ stories counter hegemonic norms (e.g., Fernandez, 2002; Munoz and Maldonado, 2012; Patton and Catching, 2009) and a critical resistance model examines how participants resist being ‘themselves’ (e.g., Abes, 2008; Humphreys and Brown, 2002). To understand more fully the ways in which resistance operates in narrative research participants’ lives, I developed a critical resistance analysis (CRA) to examine their stories from both structural and critical perspectives (see Cherrier, 2009, for an example of this dual approach to analyzing resistance in consumerism studies). I sought an analytic strategy that would make explicit why, how, to what ends and under what contexts people narrate themselves as resistant and/or compliant. Certainly narrative researchers draw on anti-hegemonic and poststructural theories to make sense of the ways in which participants resist power structures and identity categories. Yet in 2007 when I was working on the analysis for my dissertation, I was unable to locate an explicit analysis strategy to illuminate the subjects my participants constructed during narrative interviews and their (resistive) relationships to those subjects. This is unsurprising given there is insufficient (in quantity, not quality) attention to qualitative data analysis both in the written literature and in graduate student training (Leach and Onwuegbuzie, 2007).
My aim in detailing a CRA is not to provide a proscriptive template. The introductions to well-used qualitative data analysis texts make clear that step-by-step instructions fail to convey the artistry and central role of theory in the interpretation of qualitative data (e.g., Gibson and Brown, 2009; Grbich, 2007; Reissman, 2008). Instead, I submit this work as a pedagogical case example for narrative researchers seeking analytic guidance on how to illuminate and interrogate the resistance of subjects that emerge in narrative interviews.
The subjects of narrative research
A CRA is situated within current thinking that underpins much narrative work. This thinking takes narrative to be a particular kind of discourse, one of ‘retrospective meaning making’ (Chase, 2006: 656) as opposed to a representative account of the past. The experiences and people talked about in narratives are not as they were, but are understood as contemporary recreations. Yet these contemporary recreations are also not assumed to be ‘as they are now’, in a unitary, objective, or real sense. Narrative researchers also understand narrating, and therefore narrative interviewing, as an action where people actively construct of their experience in-the-moment (Chase, 2011; Josselson, Lieblich and McAdams, 2003). The selves of narrative research are therefore nonunitary, continually shifting, and, overall, performative (Bloom, 1996; Butler, 1990). But this is not to say narrative research participants are free to pick and choose from any available persona. Narrative research’s contemporary understandings of the shaped, constructed, and performed self permit a view of the self as ‘both enabled and constrained by a range of social resources and circumstances’ (Chase, 2006: 656). Therefore selves in narrative inquiries are those enabled by the linguistic resources available at the time and in the context of narration (Bloom, 2002). The latter consideration, the narrative interview as a context for the production and performance of selves, concerns a final point about the selves of narrative research. Narrative inquiries are ‘socially situated’ activities produced in particular settings, for particular audiences, and for particular purposes (Chase, 2006). Understanding the narrative interview as interactive, a joint production or ‘interpersonal drama’ (Gubrium and Holstein, 1995: 16) between the narrator and interviewer, means the selves elicited in narratives are also joint productions; they are intersubjective.
Therefore, a CRA assumes the selves in narrative interviews (even past selves) are contemporary (re)constructions, are actively constructed and performed in the process of narrating, are limited and enabled by the available linguistic resources, and are co-constructed in the interview (or other data collection) context.
From narrative selves to the resistive subject
Critical resistance analysis was developed to make sense of the narrative data I had collected from five male graduate students on the experiences of being men in the academy. 1 I had hoped that studying how male graduate students made sense of their masculinity within the academy would shed light on the ways in which gendered subjects are produced and privileged in higher education disciplines (Wolgemuth, 2009). I did not expect straightforward easy accounts of what it means to be a man. In fact my transformational (Roulston, 2010) interview method (Wolgemuth and Donohue, 2006) explicitly sought out their irrational, complicated, and paradoxical accounts. This orientation to interviewing involved engaging the men in conversations about what it means to be a man, a heterosexual, and a heterosexual male graduate student (Wolgemuth, 2007). These conversations were often personal and theoretical, in which the men explored their own assumptions and beliefs, attempting to make sense of what they thought about gender in higher education. My role in this interview was to create an interview atmosphere in which they felt ‘comfortable’ to do this exploratory work, but also to provoke discomfort, pointing to the difficulty and substantial effort required of maintaining a binary gender, or what Butler (1990, 1993, 2004) identifies as the heterosexual matrix.
But the men who chose to participate in the study were, to varying degrees, already engaged in the work of complicating what it meant to be a man. They were skeptical of my initial question, ‘What does it mean to you to be a man?’. Instead of unproblematically answering the question, many of the participants balked. They challenged how the question ‘insists I’m a man’, they argued ‘being a man is complicated and there is no one definition’, and/or they belied masculinity as a ‘false concept’. But the subsequent question, ‘What kind of a man do you feel expected to be?’ was much easier to answer. The men constructed sometimes simplistic and sometimes very complicated pictures of their struggles with what Connell (1995) called the hegemonic man. And it was in this construction, as well as future conversations about masculinity in the academy, that some hidden and unquestioned assumptions about masculinity (and femininity) began to emerge. To represent the men’s constructions of masculinity ethically, I could neither simply report their hidden and unquestioned assumptions about gender, ignoring their initial resistance to being gendered, nor could I present them as entirely resistive, ignoring the masculine subjects they had yet to critique (with me, in the interview). I developed the CRA to bring forward the men’s (resistive) relationships with/to those subjects.
Attending to participants’ relationships to/with the subjects that emerge in narrative inquiries extends beyond the previous discussion of the way selves are most often conceptualized in narrative research. This perspective sees the interview participants as active deconstructors, rather than just constructors, of stories, meanings, and self. Simultaneously it implies viewing narratives from a different perspective because an analytic focus on deconstruction would have narrative researchers attend to stories that may fall outside a narrative researcher’s definition of ‘story’.
Boje (2001, 2011) suggests narrative researchers should give as much (if not more) analytical attention to incomplete and unplotted stories as whole and plotted ones. ‘Antenarrative analysis’ is introduced as an alternative, supplement, or replacement to more conventional narrative analyses by advocating a focus ‘on stories that are too unconstructed and fragmented to be analysed in traditional approaches’ (Boje, 2001: 1). Antenarratives signify meaning-making in progress and suggest experiences that resist or deny coherence. Antenarratives therefore highlight the complexities of the subjects that emerge in narrative inquiries and do not, misguidedly, attempt to oversimplify or tidy their messiness. Boje’s antenarrative approach permits narrative inquirers to examine when selves constituted in a network of subjects fall apart, whether by accident or intention.
In my study, attending to the participants’ desire of this falling apart of self enabled a more complex depiction of the men’s struggles to/not to be men. It invited the critically resistive man (Whitehead, 2002) to the study; the subject whose aim is to seek its own dissolution (Hoy, 2005). A CRA was therefore developed as an analysis of antenarratives to represent how participants (and interviewers) resist, comply, and/or problematize the subjects elicited in narrative inquiries. The aim of a CRA is to move beyond a simple account of resistance to a more nuanced one that reveals how resistance is possible, including the complicities and subordinations that may be required to make accounts of resistance intelligible.
Introducing critical resistance analysis
A CRA is not a new kind of analysis, but it does newly bring antenarrative analysis to bear on the construction and resistance of subjects. It gathers together, in an explicit strategy, existing and well-articulated ‘poststructural’ analyses and theoretical concepts taken up as analytical tools. Critical resistance analysis draws on Boje’s (2001) deconstruction analysis. It also makes use of the concepts of deconstruction (Derrida, 1997), structural resistance and critical resistance (Hoy, 2005), and intersubjectivity – that subjects are produced in ‘relations of dependency’ (Butler, 2005: 29).
Critical resistance analysis consists of four analytic foci. They are: deconstruction trace analysis, discourse-argument analysis, resistance analysis, and intersubjectivity analysis. How the different analysis foci and theorists are combined in a CRA is detailed below and then demonstrated by analyzing Clark’s 2 antenarrative account of teaching college students.
At the time of research, Clark was in his mid-twenties and identified as a heterosexual White male from the US South. He was in the final year of a Master’s degree in media studies and saw our interviews as an opportunity to figure out what being a ‘man’ meant to him:
…being from a small southern town, population 587, you don’t get a chance to explore things quite as much because there’s all these social sanctions. But here I feel I do have a chance to play around with things. And every time I move I feel a chance to recreate my identity. Since this is what I’m playing around with, my gender identity, this study fits.
Clark and I met six times over the Spring 2006 semester to talk about his ‘gender identity’. The following edited excerpt from an interview where Clark talked about being a heterosexual male college teacher will be used to demonstrate the CRA.
Clark’s antenarrative: (hetero)sexuality in the classroom
How do I as a 24-year-old male who is teaching college students who are at most 4 years younger than me, how do I not act heterosexual? Because acting heterosexual to me always has that sexual component, so how do I deal with students in an immediate fashion… How do I do that without sexualizing the conversation? Or sexualizing the female students? Or having them think, regardless of what I’m thinking, even if my intentions are not sexual, how do I let them know that I’m not thinking about that? Part of the answer to that for me is sliding more into a homosexual way of being. I notice that my mannerisms in class tend to change. They tend to be maybe more feminine mannerisms. I tend to move with my hips a little more in classroom, which is really funny. So I literally change the way that I walk… I am trying to pass as less heterosexual. I do that so as not to be a threat in the classroom. I don’t want people to think that I’m attracted to them. For example this week I was looking around the classroom and this woman bent over to pull something out of her book bag and I saw right down her shirt. And it’s like, holy fuck. I hope nobody just saw me because I really didn’t mean to do that. So I’m very conscious about the way I interact with my students. I try to make it not heterosexual. But then that instantly gets caught up in being masculine, being heterosexual at the same time without being able to just be attracted to a woman…. And I also want them to know I’m off limits as well. You can’t flirt with me. You can’t say these things and I can’t say these things to you in class… It’s really tricky, especially in a classroom setting, to be heterosexual and not want to be heterosexual at the same time.
Yeah, I mean to what extent can we even attempt to leave our sexuality at the door? And I think what you’re saying is that you don’t try to do that, you try to convert your sexuality… and that way when you do that you act more homosexual, you act more ambiguous. Do you feel like that’s a threat to the male students?
That’s really funny that you mention that. Because I don’t think that they think that I’m attracted to them. I do think it’s threatening to some of them, though. I’m thinking of one student in particular who gave me nothing but attitude the whole time and I mean this isn’t the only factor, but part of it had to be because I wasn’t masculine enough in the classroom. Because he definitely fits the stereotype. He’s hockey player man and Mr. Muscle and Mr. Smartass and cool and calm in class. And I know that you’re challenging me more than if you would challenge a distinctly heterosexual male professor. So I think it’s threatening to their personality or their way of life. But I don’t think it’s threatening to them on a sexual level. What’s interesting though is I definitely had one student come out to me who didn’t want to come out to the class. And I think that part of me shifting my persona in class allows heterosexuals to be comfortable by seeing me as non-threatening. I think also if I have any homosexual or bisexual, transgendered individuals in the class, I feel like that will allow them to feel more comfortable as well. I’ve had two that I’ve known of. One was open with the class and the other was not open with the class, but she was open with me. So I definitely think it’s beneficial in the class in some ways.
Critical resistance analysis: description and example
At first reading it is clear Clark is describing himself as engaging in resistance in the classroom. It can readily be inferred, without recourse to analysis, that Clark performs a feminized masculinity in an effort to make his classroom i) a safe place for women, and ii) an open environment for non-normative ways of being (gendered).
A CRA delves into Clarks’ antenarrative of resistance. It asks: What kinds of subjects are constructed in this account?, What discourses permit their construction?, What is the relationship between those subjects?, and What is Clark’s relationship to them? Each of the four analyses of a CRA is first described and then demonstrated through the analysis of Clark’s antenarrative about (not) being a heterosexual male college teacher.
Deconstruction trace analysis
Deconstruction refers to Derrida’s (1997) semiotic analysis of binaries (speech/writing, passive/active) in philosophical texts. The deconstruction of subjects suggests the process by which their construction relies on a subordinated and opposite ‘Other’ (e.g., woman as Other to man, gay as Other to straight). Deconstruction works to show how these binaries can be overturned and to open up new ways of thinking. The major difference between Boje’s (2001) deconstruction analysis and deconstruction trace analysis is conceptual.
Derrida’s (1997: 85) theorizing of deconstruction makes clear that deconstruction is not a tool or something that necessarily happens consciously: Deconstruction is neither a theory nor a philosophy. It is neither a school nor a method. It is not even a discourse, nor an act, nor a practice. It is what happens, what is happening today in what is called society, politics, diplomacy, economics, historical reality.
Deconstruction happens all the time and therefore the deconstruction trace analysis seeks to trace (rather than create) the falling apart of selves. For deconstruction trace analysis this means observing when ‘the text (or story) self-destructs, how the author of a story has reversed his/her own dualized hierarchy of binary terms’ (Boje, 2001: 23). To make clear deconstruction analysis does not produce deconstruction, it is named deconstruction trace analysis, highlighting that the analysis traced or brought to light deconstructions that occurred during the interviews.
While Boje acknowledged Derrida’s argument that deconstruction is not a method, he nevertheless posited eight ‘analytical steps’ (2001: 18) for doing deconstruction analysis. The end result of these steps is to ‘find a new perspective, one that resituates the story beyond its dualisms, excluded voices or singular viewpoint’ (2001: 21). The CRA does not include all Boje’s eight steps, but focuses on four most pertinent to the analysis of subjects: duality search, finding exceptions, looking between the lines, and resituating the narrative. It also includes an additional analysis I called ‘both/and’ analysis. The ‘both/and’ analysis sought to move beyond the dualisms by searching for places in the text where the participant adopted both sides of a dichotomous position (Lather, 1991).
Doing deconstruction trace analysis
The deconstruction trace analysis can begin with a ‘duality search’ (Boje, 2001: 23). The duality search identifies either explicit (‘men aren’t as good at communicating as women’) or implicit (‘a man is a leader’, implying women are followers) binaries. It then looks for the relationship between the two sides of the binaries; are they ‘either/or’ and/or ‘both/and’?
The either/or, both/and binaries can be categorized in tables under broader themes like man versus woman or heterosexual versus homosexual. Then the analysis interrogates these tables for statements suggesting the participant’s relationships to these binaries. Are they natural, resistive, or troubled? Statements, arguments or other binaries that contradict or trouble the binaries (finding the exception, looking between the lines) can also be identified at this point. Finally, the deconstruction analysis can yield memos for each of the broader binaries, describing their elements, the participants’ relationships to them, how they break down, and how they are restored or reconceptualized (resituating the story).
A deconstruction trace analysis with Clark
Clark’s account of performing a feminized masculinity in the classroom makes use of male/female, heterosexual/homosexual and teacher/student binaries. Across these three binaries, Clark constructs the male-heterosexual-teacher and positions him in opposition to the female-heterosexual-student. Clark shows that he is very aware of the power of what Butler (2004) calls the ‘heterosexual matrix’ when he describes masculinity and heterosexuality as intertwined. To be a man is to be assumed heterosexual and together these two subject positions are associated with a kind of sexualized power. Clark attempts to undermine this power by intentionally performing a masculinity not easily located in the normative heterosexual matrix. When Clark makes the ‘important distinction’ that he is not attempting to pass as a gay man in his class, but to come across as ‘less heterosexual’, Clark suggests that masculine heterosexuality is not one side of a binary identity opposite to being gay, but a graded identity that can more or less enacted.
Yet, Clark seeks to undermine masculine heterosexuality and the social power it conveys because he does not want to be a ‘threat’ in the classroom – and by threat, Clark is specifically concerned with ‘sexualizing’ his female students. Couched in terms of an untroubled student/teacher binary, Clark’s concern for female students is recast in a reified male/female, heterosexual/homosexual divide that, at best, positions females as objects of male desire and at worst entails that females are hapless victims of male perpetrators. Similarly, in stating that Clark wants (female) students to know he is ‘off limits’, he reifies a binary assumption that heterosexual women are attracted to heterosexual men whose gender performance is not ambiguous. He makes this claim despite earlier in the interviews describing his relationship with a ‘masculine’ female who finds his feminized masculinity ‘very sexy’.
A deconstruction trace analysis of Clark’s antenarrative reveals the troubled and untroubled binary subjects required for Clark to resist power in the classroom. While Derrida (1997) holds that deconstruction happens, that binaries fall apart on their own in text, Clark’s antenarrative also points to the hard work of intentionally undermining gender and sexuality binaries and the ease with which one can unwittingly reify a naturalized heterosexual matrix. This analysis of Clark’s antenarrative suggests that the logic of subject position binaries can overflow the initial binary to which it is meant to refer. In Clark’s case, the untroubled binary is that of the teacher/student. Once the teacher and student are taken to be in a mutually exclusive relationship, the other subject positions with which they are associated (male teacher/female student – both assumed heterosexual) will also be (re)locked into dualistic relations, even when they are troubled elsewhere. In the next analysis I turn to the arguments and logic associated with subjects in order to understand how these binary and troubled subjects are constructed in their social contexts.
Discourse-argument analysis
The discourse-argument analysis attends to how subjects are constructed through the arguments and discourses of the ‘society or culture in which they [participants] live’ (Josselson, Lieblich and McAdams, 2003: 8). Discourses are systems of thought that both construct subjects and the social environments of which they speak (Foucault, 1972). Arguments can be thought of as the logic of discourse, showing how discourses are taken-up to construct subjects. The purpose of the discourse-argument analysis is therefore to interrogate the meta-thought about the nature of the self and to highlight links between available discourses and constructed subjects.
This analysis understands that ‘language connects with the social through being the primary domain of ideology, and through being both a site of, and a stake in, struggles for power’ (Fairclough, 1989: 15). Therefore the discourse-argument analysis highlights how certain arguments and discourses permitted in particular social contexts (in my case, graduate school academic disciplines and in research interviews) enable and limit the (de)construction of certain kinds of subjects.
Doing discourse-argument analysis
Discourse-argument analysis begins by seeking out arguments related to subjects. The following definition serves as a frame for locating the participants’ arguments: ‘An argument is a piece of reasoning in which one or more statements are offered as support for some other statement’ (Engel, 2000: 9). After defining what is being argued and the supporting statements, the discourse-argument analysis is followed to its conclusion or end. Next the argument is searched for jargon, theories, and/or philosophies (dominant discourses). How these are used and their underlying assumptions and contradictions are noted. Finally, memos are written that describe the arguments, their components, assumptions, contradictions, and uses.
Discourse-argument analysis with Clark
Clark makes two arguments important to understanding the construction of subjects in his antenarrative. First, he argues that the way to avoid ‘sexualizing’ his female students and to be seen as less of a threat is to act ‘less heterosexual’. He does this by moving his hips, changing the way he walks and talks in the classroom. Second, Clark argues that performing a more feminized masculinity is not seen as a sexual threat by men in the classroom in the way a non-feminized performance would be interpreted by women students. Instead, Clark argues that his performance is a threat to men in the sense that it challenges men’s traditional understandings of masculinity; it is a threat to their ‘personality or way of life’. Clark further argues that this feminized performance of masculinity helps ‘homosexual or bisexual, transgendered individuals’ to feel more comfortable in his classroom.
Clark’s arguments rely on a performative understanding about the nature of gender and sexuality and are situated well within poststructural discourses that critique the gender order as reductively binary (Butler, 1990, 1993, 2004). The poststructural discourses allowed Clark to talk about masculinity in terms of action (‘acting’, ‘sliding’, ‘passing’), rather than as a set of characteristics. The argument that performing a feminized masculinity creates a safe space for ‘homosexual or bisexual, transgendered’ students is supported by Butler (2004: 17) who suggests such an ambiguous performance would increase the number of people whose ‘lives count as lives’.
In contrast, Clark does not problematize a moral policy discourse governing the relationship between ‘teacher’ and ‘student’. Or at least Clark did not problematize this discourse in an interview with me, a heterosexual female graduate student with known connections to the Women’s Studies and Programs department on campus. In the context of our conversation, Clark’s account assumes that (hetero)sexual desire between student and teacher is universally ‘bad’ in the college classroom. He is concerned that he cannot ‘connect’ with students in an ‘immediate fashion’ without ‘sexualizing the conversation’. Yet, as hooks (1996: 46) wonders, ‘rather than perceiving desire between faculty and students as always dangerous, negative and destructive, what does it mean for us to consider the positive uses of that desire…?’. What becomes clear is that Clark, as a graduate student being socialized in his discipline, has begun to use the theories (discourses) of his discipline to work on his own issues around gender and gender in the classroom. However, he did not employ them to frame his understanding of the student–teacher relationship in the context of our interview. As such, his resistance antenarrative does not reflect counter discourses that would enable him to think of erotic interaction in the classroom as enabling and positively transforming (hooks, 1996).
Taken together, the deconstruction trace analysis and the discourse-argument analysis show the kinds of subjects Clark constructed (male/female; heterosexual/homosexual; teacher/student) and how he understood the nature of those subjects (performative and binary). Both analyses indicated Clark’s relationship to those subjects was troubled, but it is as yet unclear how those subjects were resistive of hegemonic norms and how Clark navigated his desire to be and not be heterosexual.
Resistance analysis
The resistance analysis seeks out the harmonious and/or discordant relationships with and between the subjects elicited in narrative inquiries. It seeks to understand these relationships from a critical structuralist perspective, examining the kinds of selves participants constructed to resist hegemonic subjects, and from a critical resistance perspective, examining the ways participants resist their desire to be identified as selves in the first instance. In my study, the critical structuralist resistance analysis adapted Connell’s (1995: 81) framework with ‘hegemony, dominance/submission and complicity on the one hand, marginalization/authorization on the other’. Connell’s framework allowed me to analyze the masculinities men constructed and the relationships among those masculinities. In this way, the analysis concerned the kinds of men (male subjects) the participants constructed and how they reflected or rejected hegemonic norms.
The critical resistance perspective explored the degree to which participants align with or resist the constructed subjects. When the individual is viewed as an active self-producing entity, the analysis becomes concerned with the various places participants can resist, adopt, and complicate normative ideals. This is not to say, as in my study, the individual man can refuse to be a man (although some (pro)feminist authors argue just that [e.g., Stoltenberg, 2000]). Rather it is to see that acts of resistance to self-identification can reconstitute at a macro-level the available thinking about what a man can be.
It is through these two analyses that a resistance analysis examines the participants’ constructions of subjects to address questions of subordination, complicity, and resistance. A critical structuralist perspective asks, what do these constructions tell us about the relationship among the hegemonic and marginalized subjects? The poststructural perspective asks, how do participants submit to, resist, and/or critically resist those subjects?
Doing resistance analysis
The resistance analysis interrogates the participants’ interviews and analyses with the following questions: ‘How do the participants’ subjects relate to one another?’ and ‘How do the participants submit to, resist, and/or critically resist normative ideals?’. In my study I examined the relationship between the participants’ constructions of the hegemonic man, the ideal man (the man they aspired to be), and ‘Othered’ men and women identified in the above analyses. I then wrote memos about these relationships and the participants’ relationship to these constructions.
Resistance analysis with Clark
In his antenarrative, Clark most clearly describes two kinds of men: the man he performs in class, a feminized man, and the man embodied by a male student who Clark sees as fitting ‘the stereotype’. This stereotypical heterosexual male student was ‘hockey player man and Mr. Muscle and Mr. Smartass and cool and calm in class’. Clark’s description positions this student’s heterosexual masculinity as hegemonic, the culturally, socially, and politically dominant and taken-for-granted version of what it means to be a man (Connell, 1995). From a critical structuralist perspective, Clark’s feminized masculinity is a subordinated masculinity that deviates too far from the hegemonic norm (Connell, 1995). The student’s challenging of Clark was perceived to be a response to the threat that deviant and subordinated masculinities, in vying for legitimation, present to hegemonic ones. From this perspective, Clark’s feminized masculinity can be seen to resist the hegemonic form, a resistance that may be particularly impactful given Clark’s position as teacher relative to the student.
From a poststructural resistance perspective, however, Clark’s feminized man is not as much a form, an identifiable male subject with a nameable set of characteristics, as he was constructed and performed by Clark to serve a function. As an active construction, this feminized masculinity can be seen as a subject enabled by critical resistance, an understanding of masculinity that Whitehead (2002) would argue checks the structure of male dominance and the power of the heterosexual matrix. While Clark certainly sought to value a subordinated form of masculinity, he was also willing to maintain a critical distance from the desire to be recognized as a heterosexual man in the first instance.
The final analysis, while optimally conducted alongside the previous analyses, takes into account that Clark’s antenarrative was elicited in an interview with me. Focusing on intersubjectivity attends to myself as the interviewer and the subjects I brought to the interview setting and analysis. This analysis makes clear that narrative researchers use their interpretive authority (Chase, 1996), even as that authority is not supreme. The intersubjectivity analysis is conducted to ensure the final product is not read as a master narrative, but as one among many possible narratives (Daiute and Fine, 2003).
Intersubjectivity analysis
In the intersubjectivity analysis the researcher considers how her presence and the interview process are implicated in the (de)construction of interview subjects by attending to the interview relationship as productive of (enabling and limiting) the subjects elicited in narrative interviews. As Butler notes, ‘…I begin my story of myself only in the face of a “you” who asks me to give an account’ (2005: 11). Pamphilon refers to this type of analysis as ‘interactional’, examining the ‘dynamics between the researcher and the researched’ (1999: 404). In CRA, attention to intersubjectivity means making explicit the self and subjects the researcher brings to [(de)constructs in] the interview and how those may have interacted with the participants’ self and subjects. This requires a significant commitment to reflexivity on the part of the researcher. In my study I kept a personal journal in which I recorded my reactions to the interviews. But I also asked interview questions intended to promote conversations about how the interviews were going, how the men felt about our relationship and how our genders may have impacted the content of the interview. The latter question helped me understand, even if just hypothetically, what kind of woman the participants understood me to be and how that kind of woman might have impacted how they responded.
Doing intersubjectivity analysis
The intersubjectivity analysis involves examining three data sources: a) the researchers’ notes, diary, or other recordings, b) recorded transactions between the interviewer and interviewee, and c) interview questions/discussions related to the process of interviewing and the interview/interviewee relationship. Each of these data sources is interrogated for the kinds of subjects that were (de)constructed and how these subjects related to one another (perhaps employing strategies from the deconstruction trace analysis). Memos can then be written about the subjects that emerged and how they may have been co-implicated in one another’s (de)contruction. It is important these memos be explicitly written from the researcher’s perspective as the researcher cannot know, unless told, how the participant felt or reacted during the interview.
Intersubjectivity analysis (with Clark)
My study of masculinity in higher education is/was framed by the poststructural theories of Foucault and Butler and draws on the work of Whitehead (2002), Boje (2001), and Hoy (2005) who similarly site Foucault and Butler. My work assumes that masculinity and male dominance are both negotiated phenomenon, rather than universal conditions of immutable gendered power. Further, my interview method intentionally sought to promote deep reflection and personal change in alignment with an ethic of critical resistance (Wolgemuth and Donohue, 2006). The poststructural feminist and troubled heterosexual female subjects I brought to the interviews very much admired Clark’s feminized masculinity and his critically resistive self that enabled the mixing of gender codes. Much of this is revealed in the question I posed to Clark: … to what extent can we even attempt to leave our sexuality at the door? And I think what you’re saying is that you don’t try to do that, you try to convert your sexuality… and that way when you do that you act more homosexual, you act more ambiguous. Do you feel like that’s a threat to the male students?
By asking this question, I was pointing out what I believed to be incongruent in Clark’s narrative. It seemed to me paradoxical to talk about masculinity and heterosexuality as intertwined and performed and yet to work inordinately hard to control, set aside, subvert, or corral one’s sexuality in school.
Given my clear alignment with poststructural discourses and the poststructural feminist subject I brought to the interviews, Clark presents an interesting problematic. Clark’s adoption of poststructural discourses and his performance of a feminized masculinity most closely matched my ideal. In the interviews and in this analysis I was tempted to cheer, ‘Yes, you’ve got it right! I couldn’t have said it better myself!’ (As if in this write-up I’m not saying it. As if I’m not using my interpretive authority). Examining the above question posed to Clark from the perspective of the poststructural feminist subject reveals that my next statement, ‘what you’re saying is that you don’t try to do that, you try to convert your sexuality…’ can be read as me feeding him a line. In this instance I am telling him what I want to hear and suggesting how he should reframe his antenarrative. But Clark doesn’t bite and his antenarrative continues along the same logic, that he seeks to be ‘less (hetero)sexual’, rather than to ‘convert’ his sexuality. As in the interview, my analysis seeks to make the same point – that all subjectivities, including the teacher/student ones should be critically resisted.
All this suggests that I may need to be wary of my attachment to Foucault and Butler whose worldviews with which I am so enamored nevertheless limit my thinking. As St. Pierre states, ‘I suspect that I can best honor Foucault by being wary of my attachment to him, by working to get free of the subject he has allowed me to think and be so that I might become a different subject’ (2004: 327). I am led, for example, to wonder whether it is ‘fair’ to present Clark as not being critical of the student/teacher binary. Clark was a second year student in a Master’s program and it is perhaps unlikely that he had come to think of himself as a teacher to the same degree he thought of himself as a man. Had I read my data through a model of graduate student identity development (e.g., Adler and Adler, 2005), I might have understood Clark as transitioning into the teacher role and his performing an alternative masculinity as less about problematizing masculinity and heterosexuality and more about developing himself as a caring and ethical college teacher, attuned to the needs of his students.
Discussion
A CRA reveals the complexities of Clark’s account of resistance in the classroom. Clark’s performance of a feminized masculinity was described (to me, in research interviews) as a strategy of self-refusal. In the classroom, Clark sought to detach his body from the signs that would code it as heterosexual and male. This was conducted as both as an attempt to open the class to non-normative ways of being, signaling alignment with the ethical aims of critical resistance (Hoy, 2005), and to create a safe space for women, signaling alignment with critical structural resistance. Many subject binaries are at play in this account, and a critical resistance analyses reveals how they are troubled (in the performance of feminine-man), reconstituted (in the presumed power relationship between heterosexual males and females), and taken-for-granted (in the division between teacher and student). While poststructural discourses about gendered subjects made it possible for Clark to talk about the heterosexual-male-teacher as performed, the taken-for-granted moral policy discourse that governs the asexuality of student–teacher relationships ensured the reification of traditional gender roles. Clark’s account of critically resisting power-as-dominance and power as productive in the classroom is therefore revealed to entail its own complicities and subordinations; it reveals Clark’s account as simultaneously one of desiring to be and not be a man, as opening up the classroom to more subjective possibilities and foreclosing on others by positioning women-students as victims of masculine domination. As Foucault (1988) points out, there is no power without resistance and no resistance without power. A CRA reveals these complexities and struggles against positing straightforward accounts of resistance.
In the case of masculinity in higher education, this complex understanding may inform the ways in which male students on US college campuses are encouraged to resist hegemonic masculinity and to work collaboratively to end violence against women (Wolgemuth, 2007; Davis and Laker, 2004; Davis and Wagner, 2005; Harris, 2008). This includes critiquing the seemingly non-gendered academic discourses that circulate in higher education (Wolgemuth, 2009) and engaging in research that seeks to engender resistance (Wolgemuth and Donohue, 2006).
Conclusion
In this paper I introduced a narrative analysis strategy called critical resistance analysis. My aim is pedagogical. In the field of qualitative research where explicit descriptions of analytic process are harder to come by and doctoral programs in the social sciences typically dedicate only one course to qualitative data analysis (Leach and Onwuegbuzie, 2007), this strategy is detailed for both novice and experienced narrative researchers. I presented the four analyses in sequence in this write-up for convenience and readability. I do not hold they should be conducted in the way I’ve presented them. An equally illuminative analysis could, for example, begin with a focus on intersubjectivity and work back to deconstruction trace analysis, framing all the analyses in terms of the context in which the data was generated. Overall, a CRA can assist narrative researchers to elucidate and examine both the kind of subjects that emerge in narrative interviews and how they are constructed, but also with the extent to which participants adhere to or resist those subjects. I argue this analytic aim adds value to the study of resistance by highlighting the complexities of both critical structural and critical resistance forms of resistance.
I chose Clark’s narrative as an example for this case study to share what I believe to be the most informative aspects of CRA; that it reveals the complexities of resistance. Clark’s narrative is most clearly one that speaks directly of resistance, but an antenarrative does not have to be about resistance to apply CRA. I conducted a CRA on male graduate students’ interviews that did not directly address resistance to hegemonic masculinity or seek to undermine a desire to be men. In these cases the CRA equally shed light on the contours of their dominance and complicity and suggested that acts of domination produced a kind of inadvertent resistance (Wolgemuth, 2007).
Resistance, complicity, and subordination are part of our daily lives. Knowingly and unknowingly our bodies and language reflect, counter, and perpetuate often oppressive social identities. Studying and analyzing the ways in which ‘ordinary’ and ‘extraordinary’ people navigate these identities, particularly the ways in which identities are resisted, can contribute to a diverse and growing body of knowledge about how resistance is done and its intended and unintended consequences (e.g., Abes, 2008; Subreenduth, 2006). It can also yield, on the discursive level, more possible ways of being. This is an ethical aim of critical resistance, to engage in resistance to see what “resistance open up” (Hoy, 2005: 11). Yet a CRA seeks to deeply investigate the complexities of resistance, to resist taking for granted the telos of critical resistance. As Hoy points out, ‘resistance to power and domination may thus be more complex than it appears on the surface’ (2005: 3). A CRA illuminates the ways in which resistance opens up possibilities and closes them down, an understanding that affords narrative researchers a more complex account of how individuals struggle against and for themselves.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The author thanks Drs Jean Clandinin, Barbara Pamphilon, and Mirka Koro-Ljungberg for their helpful review and comments on earlier drafts of this manuscript.
Funding
This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.
