As I was reading through Hull's "Being There" I found it a little contradictory. She talks about how you should live as they do, not having a cold drink in front of someone who is not allowed to have one. You should try to feel what they feel, even if only a little. She says to be as open as you possibly can with your subjects. Go to their churches. Hull gives the example of being annointed with olive oil at a Pentecostal church. Some of the other authors give similar tips, saying physical presence is the best research, and building a relationship with the subject gives the story depth.
The comment in Hull's "Being There" that bothered me was "Remember, you are not one of them." Don't dance at parties, don't drink beer, don't bow your head while others are praying, don't participate. How can you really build a relationship with your subjects and feel what they're feeling if you purposely act as an outsider in situations? Would it be possible to profile a chef without tasting his creations? Can you really "be there" as a fly on the wall? And will they truly open up to you if they feel you staring at them while they go about their daily life? I would expect to be shut out of a community from acting seemingly disrespectful in a prayer session. Other than this portion of Hull's tips I really liked what she suggested.
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4 comments:
Kim,
I completely understand that this seems like a contradiction. But I think there is a way to do it with finesse and respect. I certainly experienced that stuggle when I lived with Amish people to report on them. However, one component of my project was to live like them, so I had to participate in every way. I found that this created difficulties in my relationships with them; often, they would forget that I was reporting on them and when they moments of remembrance would often become uncomfortable. Similiarly, I became close enough to my host families that I wanted them to like me, almost desperately, and I felt that this started to jeopardize my project. I think if I were to do it all over again, I would be able to negotitate my role as human and reporter a little differently. But its very tricky business and I think we should talk about it in class, because it can be so difficult and yet so rewarding.
I agree. These are really challenging issues you're raising, Kim. And there are very few hard and fast rules in the practice of narrative journalism, so it's important to discuss them as one would discuss ethics in a philosophy class.
Reporters are indeed human, and I've found the best rule of thumb as a reporter is to ask, "Whom do I serve?" "How do I best serve the story and the reader?"
You've always got to be asking these questions--in the reporting stages and in the writing and editing stages.
Last year before I went to a regional beer festival in Germany there was an article published in the Grand Rapids Press about it in the travel section. I remember thinking that the person writing it couldn't possibly have actually ever been to it. Writing about a German beer festival requires participation in my opinion. If you were playing "fly on the wall" you would never be able to feel the culture, history and meaning behind the drinking and dancing.
I like the issue you brought up in your post. I agree with Marin, and from the little I know about narrative journalism, it sounds like there are few concrete rules.
I like your analysis of Hull's piece in Telling True Stories. I was somewhat confused when I first read it as well, because I felt like everything else I had been told or I had been reading went against what she was saying.
But, I guess everyone has their own way of reporting on a subject, and as Lauren described about her experience this summer, I think it would take some individual practice before you found what worked for you. I guess this is what works for this particular writer.
Good insight!
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