Ethical concerns are of paramount significance in a study that examines childrearing practices, including some that are controversial and/or potentially illegal in England. As mentioned above, I encountered some difficulty during the initial individual interview, probably due to the reticence of the participant to discuss these issues in a society where she could have felt negatively judged or could face legal repercussions. However I ensured that I complied with the ethical cornerstones of informed consent, confidentiality, and anonymity to help allay the anxieties of participants and protect them (Elliot, 2005). These vital considerations in social research ensure that the authority and privacy of
participants are preserved, their identity is protected, and they are not compromised in the future as a result of their participation (Tilley and
Woodthorpe, 2011). Moreover, this research conformed to the ethical standards of the University of Sussex, which are in accordance with major British and international guidelines (DoH, 2009; ESRC 2015).
All of the participants were informed of the research purpose, methods and possible risks. At the outset, I advised each participant of their right to withdraw from the research at any time during the fieldwork without explanation (Long and Johnson, 2007). As discussed earlier, personal data gathered in the course of the research were anonymised and all names were replaced with
pseudonyms; all of the data was digitised and encrypted in password-protected storage accessible only to me. The blog presented some unique challenges, as it embodies several issues identified by Tilley and Woodthorpe (2011). They listed areas where maintaining confidentiality is particularly critical, namely, in research with vulnerable groups, on ‘highly sensitive topics’ or with participants whose informed written consent is problematic to obtain. To address these considerations, blog contributors were provided with clear guidelines and boundaries, which prohibited the posting of personal information and promoted the use of hypothetical or anonymised scenarios where possible in discussions.
Prior to starting the interviews and focus group discussions, the participants were provided with explanatory information sheets and asked to sign informed consent forms. Seven of them declined to sign a hard copy, opting instead to give their consent orally at the beginning of the audio recordings, probably so that there would be no record of their name or signature, endorsed by them in written form. However, I hastened to reiterate that their real names or
signatures will be never be used in any form in the research. Furthermore, as information about vulnerable children might be shared, I informed each participant while seeking their consent that if, during the process of the
research, any information arose that indicated that a child could be suffering or was at risk of suffering significant harm, then I would be unable to maintain confidentiality, but would be obliged to inform social services (Grinnell and Unrau, 2010; ESRC 2012). However, that before making any such referral, I
would inform the participant if I felt confident that doing so would not put the child in immediate danger. Such clauses about the possibility of not upholding confidentiality regarding certain harmful or criminal concerns create
complexities that can affect potential participants’ willingness to honestly engage with the research process (Elliot, 2005; Rubin and Rubin, 2011). I cannot likewise be certain that they did not impact on the accounts provided by my participants.
Other limits of confidentiality include the difficulties in ensuring anonymity from ‘persons with whom respondents have relationships such as spouses, co- workers or neighbours’, who may be able to recognise participants based on information they provided for the research (Bickford and Nisker, 2015, p. 278). Therefore, in addition to the use of pseudonyms, I intended to change the genders and identifying characteristics of participants’ children where I thought it necessary. However, towards the end of writing the thesis, I became aware of studies, which underscore the impact of gender on parent-child conflict (see Zhang et al., 2016). I became concerned that changing the genders of my participants’ children might undermine the value of the research to current knowledge and practice. Bickford and Nisker (2015) accordingly caution that as necessary as these protective measures are, they could ‘threaten claims to research quality’. Thomson (2014) also warns about promises of anonymity and confidentiality, which might be unrealistic according to current academic data requirements. Therefore, I chose to use the correct gender, but ameliorated potential exposure by glossing over distinctive characteristics of participants and other relevant persons, mentioning these only sparingly when deemed essential.
Lastly, Thomas and Hodges (2010) also recommend that when carrying out research with cultural minorities and other disadvantaged or hard-to-reach groups, prospective respondents should be informed of the researcher’s dual identities in a manner that would help reduce any anxieties. In the process of conceptualising and implementing this research, I grappled with how exactly I should present myself to the participants. As a Nigerian immigrant and social worker, I have intimate experiences of being a Nigerian immigrant parent as
well as in-depth knowledge of health and social care policy and practice in England. Additionally, I am a social researcher working on my PhD. Ultimately, I followed Elliot’s (2005) recommendations for reflexive practice, informing the participants that although I was a first-generation Nigerian immigrant and social worker, my researcher role was paramount, for it was in that capacity that I was enabled to encounter them. The next section goes into more detail about
reflexivity and the effects of my identities on the research.
Reflexivity
Finlay and Gough (2003) define reflexivity as a ‘self-critical lens’ through which to develop ‘thoughtful, self-aware analysis of the intersubjective dynamics between researcher and the researched’ (p. ix). The capacity for shared or reflexive understanding, supported by my insider status, I believe, also affected the participants’ trust in me, and vice versa. Besides, my own experiences shape what I measure from participants’ responses. Patton (2002) succinctly states that ‘experience affects perspective. Perspective shapes experience’ (p. 335). I was therefore aware throughout the research of the possibility that my personal qualities and my prior experiences as a social worker could distort or enrich my perceptions and judgement. Blaikie (2007) observes that the insider experience is instrumental to a better understanding of the social phenomenon being researched. As a fellow Nigerian immigrant parent, the participants probably identified with me much more than they would have an outsider because of our shared historical and socio-cultural background. Rather than view my history and experiences as problematic, Patton (2002) urges that it is necessary to fully comprehend the various experiences of the different
‘stakeholders’ in order not to exacerbate already existing concerns of the participants (p. 337). However, I had to be careful not to allow familiarity to compromise analytical clarity.
I also remained aware that the participants might have suffered exclusion, misrecognition and other forms of social injustice, and I was careful not to further compound these experiences. My intentions were tested during the writing process, as I perused the data innumerable times – looking for the best
ways of presenting the findings (Corden and Sainsbury, 2006). I felt constrained that I had to make difficult choices, and also that it was necessary to explicitly demonstrate the reasoning behind them (Plummer, 2011). So, I was moved to ponder upon why I felt that way. I realised that I was implicated in the work in many ways that introduced dilemmas.
First, as a registered social worker, I have a professional and personal
commitment to English childrearing practices, especially as enshrined in policy and law, and to implore others to do so. Some of my concerns were what and how the data spoke to my professional practice. Participants expressed critical views of social work practices in England that were familiar to me as a
practitioner. As a British citizen, this was concerning for me in terms of the politics of research, as the work is oriented in England. I worried that readers who may be my neighbours, social work colleagues, and acquaintances, could view the analysis as a criticism of their best-known practices. At certain
moments in the writing, I felt a strong need to offer some sort of apology for my participants’ points of view. I worried that the presentation of the data in their raw form, without ameliorating caveats, might suggest that I am disparaging English childrearing practices. There were no easy answers to the dilemmas I faced than to be open, reflexive and transparent about them.
Second, I was also apprehensive that parts of the data were equally
uncomplimentary of certain Nigerian practices. Being also a member of the study group itself, as a Nigerian immigrant, I was worried about how some of those comments presented Nigerian childrearing practices as brutish. I nonetheless was drawn to understanding the participants’ critique of English childrearing norms as a testimonial of complex dynamics. On the one hand, the participants may see England (and the research) as a liberating space; on the other, it could appear both restrictive and regulatory. I was keen on not
reproducing a claim to superiority for either culture (see Corden and Sainsbury, 2006).
I am also conscious that my grasp and presentation of the issues are influenced by a mixed scholarship of Nigerian and Western knowledges and epistemology,
which might create misconceptions. My dilemmas could also be because some of the participants’ perceptions, and my interpretations, orient outside the accepted childrearing norms of England in particular, and Nigeria to a lesser extent. However, while I do not always hold the same views as the participants, I sought to respect theirs by opting for ‘empathic neutrality’ and making my ‘assumptions apparent’ (Snape and Spencer, 2003, p. 13). I therefore strove to strike a complex balance without limiting the authenticity of the research, which I think is more beneficial as it orients relevant parties to the processes
undergirding the participants’ concerns.
I chose not to produce exhaustive counter narratives to the participants’ on some sensitive issues with relatively high moralistic undertones. This is
because one guiding principle I maintained throughout the analysis was that the focus of this research is not to reduce the participants’ issues to a moral debate, but, to as much as is possible, reveal what they felt and said. I believe that the frankness of such a position is necessary in academia, as we provide nuanced analyses of complex situations (see Pilkington, 2016).
3.6 Conclusion
In this chapter, I have outlined the methodological approach, which framed my study, and how the research questions were operationalised into a research design adapted in practice from a critical realist epistemology. I demonstrated my understanding of social reality through social constructions as both
structured and intangible, but which can be reproduced through human agency (Bhaskar 1997). I have detailed each of the data-collection methods involved, namely: internet blogging, 25 semi-structured interviews, and two focus group discussions composed of four participants each. I also reflected critically on the sample that I was able to secure for the research, and the challenges
encountered in obtaining participants from half a dozen local authority areas in Greater London. I have outlined the methods of analysis employed including the thematic analysis from a template. Furthermore, I reflected on how my position as an insider/outsider within both societies investigated may have shaped both
the kind of data collected and the analysis achieved, which begin in the following Chapter Four.