COMISION DE ASUNTOS JURÍDICOS

As I have discussed in chapter two, the experiences, perspectives and desires of young people are often ignored and silenced (particularly in the realm of sexuality). Many authors working within the (fairly) recent paradigm of childhood studies have, rightly, drawn attention to this in the context of research, and to the importance of listening to young people’s interpretations of their own experiences (e.g. Qvortrup 1994; Prout and James 1997; James et al. 1998; Christensen and Mikkelsen 2008), often accompanying these theoretical positions with exhortations to more

76 As I will discuss in the forthcoming analysis section, however, despite the centrality of foregrounding young people’s viewpoints within my research, too narrow a focus on their own interpretations is both difficult (impossible?) and not wholly desirable. Holland et al. (2004[1998]) discuss the complications of adopting a standpoint epistemology, and the tensions between taking participants’ views seriously and critically analysing when those views may be formed and negotiated through

discourses that may be sexist, racist, etc. These tensions are constantly present within research with young people’s peer and relationship cultures; at the most simple level, which participant’s viewpoint should be prioritised when two stories conflict? As Sally Holland, Emma Renold, Nicola Ross and Alexandra Hillman caution,

there is a real risk that children’s analyses are heralded as of superior

authenticity in understanding children’s lives, than that of others involved in their lives, or indeed of social scientists who place qualitative data in the wider sociostructural, sociocultural or psychosocial context (Holland et al. 2010).

The positioning of young people as a wholly marginalised group, too – although it can be accurate and useful in analysis – is also a restrictive and incomplete view of the complexities of teenagers’ cultures. Such a broad-brush characterisation of participants by age can obscure other vital “differences that make a difference”, and silence other political considerations. As Alexandra Allan (2012) argues, there is a need to critically examine the negotiations of power in research with privileged young people. Most of the young people that I was researching, as we have already seen, were advantaged in many ways. They were likely to achieve ‘success’ in the educational context. These advantages were sometimes expressed through

denigration of a disadvantaged other – discussing the school, for instance, in relation to schools in less affluent areas of the town, and constructing negative images of the students at these schools (cf. Reay and Lucey 2000; Reay 2004). The expression of participants’ identities and perspectives, then, often relied on perpetuating

problematic conceptions of others, often more disadvantaged than themselves.

In addition to the study’s focus on middle-class, advantaged groups, I was also primarily interested in researching heterosexuality and heterosexual relationships. I

77 wanted to focus my gaze on the “ordinariness”, the everydayness, of teenage

sexuality, and unfortunately this remains staunchly heteronormative. Acutely aware of how (silently) indignant I would myself have been at the age of fourteen at a researcher presuming heterosexuality in her teenage objects of interest (and interested also in how queer young people might view their own and others’ sexualities and relationships), I did not exclude young people who might identify with other sexualities from participating. I took care to pose initial questions in a gender-neutral way, and to leave the scope of the study open fo r non-heterosexual young people to participate. I did not, however, speak to any teenagers who

identified as gay, lesbian, bisexual or otherwise queer; my survey did not ask young people to identify their sexual orientation but did ask about the sex of the ir partners, and only two people admitted to having had same-sex partners. I defined ‘partners’ in a broad sense (which I highlighted in my verbal introduction to the survey), designed to include anybody respondents had had romantic or sexual contact with. However, it was clear from interviews that respondents had, at least for this question, interpreted it more narrowly than I intended, as several girls talked of kissing other girls at parties, which was not evident from the survey question.

Self-presentation of my own sexuality and relationships was an issue I considered with some trepidation. I was initially most anxious that participants might enquire about my own teenage sexual experiences, forcing me to disclose my lack of them. This, I imagined, would both position me as hopelessly uncool, and lead me to a necessary disclosure of having been gay as a teenage student at their school, in (partial) explanation of this inexperience. Unsurprisingly, in practice participants proved to be entirely uninterested in what probably seemed to them my distant past, with the exception of occasional discussion of commonalities and differences in the school since I had been a student there. I also considered disclosure of my current sexuality. Deborah Youdell (2010) discusses the tensions and discomforts involved in negotiating whether (and when, and how) to ‘come out’ as a queer researcher, and the difficulties in particular of embodying a queer positioning within the constraints of educational research.

78 I eventually decided to disclose my bisexuality only in the event a participant

specifically asked about it, or in the case it seemed appropriate in identifying with a participant who was talking about their own feelings of same-sex attraction or experience. I did not, in the event, encounter (or construct) any of these moments; although there were instances where I felt unsure about not talking about my own sexuality. For some time during the fieldwork I was going out with a man, although this relationship ended partway through my fieldwork (providing me with a timely opportunity to empathise with a participant’s break- up story the next day). Again I was willing to talk about the relationship if it was appropriate or if I was asked about my relationship status (cf. Mellor (2006) on the researcher’s use of his own

relationship status in developing rapport and relationships with children); although like Youdell (2010) I worried that in doing so, I would be perpetuating

heteronormative frameworks by obscuring other sexualities. I struggled, too, in wondering whether to challenge participants’ occasional homophobic remarks, and gendered and classed expressions of distaste, as I discuss further below.

In presenting and analysing the data, then, I wanted to take a critical look at the norms and assumptions of my young participants, in an attempt to understand and partially destabilise these norms, as well as allowing a space for young people to express their own understandings and experiences. I try and employ a queer perspective in studying these norms, following empirical research into young heterosexualities which works at critically investigating and questioning

heteronormativity (Epstein et al. 2001; e.g. Blaise 2005a; Renold 2005; Haywood 2008; 2008; Renold and Ringrose 2008; Ringrose and Renold 2011) I do not mean to suggest that my participants were necessarily rejecting traditional norms, nor do I mean only to focus on the subversions and resistances that are found within young people’s everyday practices of heterosexualities . Rather, if it is important to research and analyse non-normative sexualities, it is surely also vital to research and analyse normative sexualities. Sara Ahmed argues that queer theory’s emphasis on fluidities and transgressions builds another hierarchy, whereby “queer” lives, as transgressive, are valued higher than “gay and lesbian” “assimilationist” lives (2004). I would add to this that queer approaches sometimes (by their nature) disregard heterosexual

79 subjectivities as being normative and thus of little interest. While I do not, of course, mean to argue that heterosexual subjects endure the same difficulties within the restrictions of a heteronormative, gendered social order as those who cannot place themselves within the heteronorm, those who may fit more easily within the norm nevertheless remain regulated and controlled by it.

In reading and presenting the experiences of these young people, I do not consider myself to be the ultimate authority on their lives; but in this space, it must be acknowledged that I have the ultimate authority over presenting them. My own perspectives and standpoints have influenced every stage of the research, and I see this as not only inevitable but also not undesirable; I analyse and incorporate the ways in which these perspectives have affected and constructed the data. But within these constraints, I want to construct a reality that doesn’t mislead, a reality that, however constructed (as all research realities are) is as close as I can come to a truth. My research aims to represent (but does not merely report) the experiences, emotions and interactions of (some) teenagers doing (hetero)sex and gender, and the patterns into which they fit (snugly or awkwardly).

Getting in

Access to the school was undoubtedly aided by my position as an ex-student. I initially approached the school via a letter to the headmaster (who was headmaster while I was a student), giving a brief outline of my research and putting it in context of recent policy, and remembering myself to him. Given the aforementioned

problems that can arise with attempting to research sexuality in school, I spent some time working out how to frame my interests, eventually phrasing the focus of the project as “teenage relationships, with a particular interest in gender and problems that can arise in such relationships, including control, coercion and abuse”. Although I was not entirely happy with suggesting that all teenage relationships might be problematic, I felt that pragmatically, placing my research within such a problem- based framework was a necessary compromise in order to increase the likelihood of it being seen as worthwhile (and, indeed, a significant part of my proposed research

80 did cover such issues). After some follow- up phone calls, my letter was passed on to the assistant headteacher in charge of child protection, Mrs White, who had taught me and my younger sister PSE (Personal and Social Education) for several years. I set up a meeting with Mrs White, and after discussing with her my provisional plans for the research, she agreed that I could carry out the research in school provided she and the headmaster could see the consent letters for participants and parents and the questionnaire first (although with certain alterations to my plans; I had wanted to research both years 10 and 11, but it was deemed that research with year 11 would be too disruptive to their GCSE studies). In the next couple of weeks, we organised a date for me to carry out the questionnaire which formed the first stage of research.

After I had prepared the questionnaire and consent letters for participants and parents and had them approved by the teachers, I was invited to address a year 10 assembly to introduce myself and my research. This was attended by all year 10 students in school on the day, as well as all the year 10 form tutors. Standing up in front of a crowd of 300-odd cross-legged 14/15-year-olds, all staring at me, was a nerve- wracking experience; as Mrs White introduced me as a visitor they were “very lucky” to have, and praised the importance of my research, I felt an acute surge of impostor syndrome. In my speech I introduced myself and my research, explaining that I was interested in their perspectives on and experiences of relationships, both good and bad, and stressing my desire to be non-judgmental. I tried to walk the line between being interesting and approachable in the eyes of the students, and

appropriate in the eyes of the teachers; although my sister had approved of my mild use of “crap” in the speech, telling me this would get the teenagers on-side, as I looked out at the face of the aforementioned strict deputy headmaster, my courage to utter even this inoffensive curse deserted me and I replaced it with “rubbish”.

This assembly took place the week before the questionnaire that formed the initial part of my research was due to be carried out. The opportunity to present my research to the entire school year (and to carry out research with them too) was welcome, as was the opportunity to speak to them without interruption, giving me the chance to let students see who I was and hear from me directly. The setting of the

81 presentation, though, no doubt affected participants’ reactions to me. The

presentation was a very one-way affair. There was no opportunity given for students to ask questions, and indeed I cannot imagine any would have taken an opportunity given the setting. The endorsement of the school and introduction by Mrs White, although helpful and necessary for pragmatic purposes, did align me with the school administration.

At the assembly, I gave out parental information letters, and the same letter was also sent out to parents by the school’s parent email system. I had agreed with the school that an opt-out parental consent system would be appropriate for this part of the research, so parents or carers were requested to return their signed consent form to the office if they did not wish their son or daughter to participate in the survey. I did not, in the end, receive any requests from parents to opt out. Students were similarly asked to return a form if they did not wish to participate, and would be allowed to stay behind in their form rooms if they did not want to take part. I recognised that this was not a perfect arrangement, as students would inevitably be noticed by their peers in choosing to absent themselves, but there was unfortunately no easy way to rectify this. Participants did, of course, retain and use the ability to subvert the demands of research by not filling in the questionnaire, answering questions falsely, or challenging the questions (as I discussed at the beginning of this chapter). This need not be seen merely as disobedience or irritation (although they may make quantitative analysis more difficult), but can also be used as va luable insights into young people’s identity constructions and subversions of the research process and school ethos, as Allen (2006) points out in her discussion of young men’s sexually explicit answers and references to pornography to a questionnaire on sex education.