Causing stigma by highlighting stigma? A lesson from Twitter

Russell Delderfield in the following blog post explores and problematises the issue of stigma and eating disorders, within the context of exchanges he had on the social media site Twitter. 

Russell D pic

Image by frankieleon (Creative Commons License) 

I have recently had the wind knocked out of my post-PhD prideful sails. I studied male eating disorders using qualitative approaches for my doctorate.

The issue of stigma arises constantly in the research I read and conduct. It feels as if there is no avoiding it. It is pervasive and un-ignorable. I cannot possibly ‘choose’ to set it aside and not engage with it. Yet, when it appears in psychological publications, the treatment of it (within my field, at least) is dissatisfying. The inferences seem to start from a hefty assumption: that ‘stigma’ is a coherent, unified ‘thing’. And more importantly, that it either exists – or doesn’t. In addition, there is a kind of unwritten imperative that I experience. This asserts that mining the data for its evidence about stigma and presenting this to the world is a good thing; it helps to hold it up to the light for further keen observation. And this is where our dilemma begins.

Let me backtrack and fill in some gaps at this point. Whilst I qualitatively explore  men’s experiences with eating disorder, I’m not entirely alone. There are other clinicians, psychologists and psychiatrists who investigate  male disordered eating. A small number of studies have been published that try to improve our understanding using qualitative methods (I count 6 in my collection, thus far). Although I do not profess to specifically examine stigma in male eating disorders (my interest is broader than this alone), some of my participants share stigma they encounter.

During my PhD, I wanted to address the cursory and superficial coverage of stigma that I perceived in other work. So, I did something that no other person has done (at least to my knowledge) within my field. I did not simply report on the existence of stigma and select some careful quotes from the data to illuminate what men had been through, I took the study of a couple of men’s experiences back to its ‘roots’, with a Bordo-esque exploration of what this stigma meant to these men. I explored stigma through the lens of spoiled identity. I asked, ‘What does it mean to the man to live with stigma?’, ‘What does the experience of stigma mean for a man’s masculine identity?’, and ‘What does the avoidance of stigma mean for a man’s masculine identity?’

This, for me, emulated the ethos of feminist eating disorder work where there is an established history of women and researchers sharing their stories of ‘spoiled’ identity, objectified womanhood and the meanings of what it is to be an anorexic, bulimic or binge-eating woman. I formulated a useful exposition of what spoiled masculinities mean and feel like for men living with an eating disorder. This went beyond simply saying ‘men report they experience stigma and here’s an example of the stigma they had to deal with.’ Finally, I was satisfied. This laudable and novel achievement was a source of pride. Job done (at least for now, I’m not naïve enough to believe that qualitative work is finite).

Well that was then, and this is now. Over the summer a fellow researcher tweeted about a BBC News report that asked why men who have eating disorders keep it a secret. I was straight on the case. I retweeted with my usual ‘awareness-raising-challenge-the-stigma’ gusto. In a painfully cropped 140 words, I said that stigma is one reason that men do not speak out. I tweeted that I knew this due to my qualitative research with the men themselves. I encouraged others to face-down this stigma that can be so debilitating.

And I was challenged in turn. One of the men who has an eating disorder, who follows my research on Twitter, contacted me to raise something that I had not thought of before. In my positively proselytising mission to campaign against the damaging effects of stigma (important as I still believe it is), I had overlooked something. One tweet was all it took:

twitter“I sometimes wonder if (only) talking about how men with EDs feel stigmatised teaches men with EDs that they should feel stigmatised…”

I was floored – both as a man with an eating disorder and a researcher.

I wonder how many men feel similarly? I wonder if it is true that holding a mirror to the nature and effects of stigma simply serves to perpetuate it? In my empowered role as researcher I had overlooked something that, once said, seems so obvious. How could I not have thought about this before? Am I part of the problem, instead of being one among many cogs of the solution?

I didn’t despair for long. My interlocutor and I had a thought-provoking exchange of views. I learnt something extremely valuable. This is the very substance of what critical psychology embraces: it acknowledges the fallibility of research because it is carried out by humans about humans for humans. It challenges the monadic perspective of psychology and the monolithic nature of published research studies.   In many ways, the fact that people actually respond to my research on Twitter, rather than just passively consuming it, means that my work finds meaning somewhere. Talking about my research findings with the public leads to dialogue and a shared understanding of my single researcher experience.

However, I’m still left with a dilemma. I accept the proposition in the tweet but I do not have an answer as to how do we erode the deleterious effects of stigma, if we do not highlight the concept and the role it purportedly plays in preventing men from getting help. As a researcher, I must make sense of the potential consequences of my findings. Is uncomplicated campaigning for improvement unequivocally beneficent? I thought so, but I don’t anymore. I set out to redress the lack of complexity in male eating disorders research when it comes to stigma (amongst many other things). In turn, this bred further complexity because it created an unforeseen conversation.

Unforeseen, but not unwelcome: it’s a lesson that I appreciated learning.

Dr Russell Delderfield
University of Bradford
@MaleEDResearch

‘You are enough’

Andrea La Marre in this blog post reflects upon her experiences of speaking in a community setting to a group of young people on the topic of bodies and body image. 

I go to a lot of conferences. This summer I did the grueling three-conference circuit including QMiP, ISCHP, and POWs. Over the course of nine days, I spoke to some brilliant academics about my work, and learned a lot. I love going to conferences; oddly, I’ve come to love public speaking.
 

As much as I love conferences, however, I have been trying to break away from speaking only or primarily in academic settings. My focus is turning to ways to speak to people who I might never otherwise interact with.

 

Like, say… a group of Girl Guide Pathfinders.

 

A few weeks ago, I delivered a talk about growing up in a body-obsessed world to a group of community members. I had no idea that the audience would be mostly teenage girls, but I couldn’t have chosen a better crowd. It suddenly no longer mattered that my methods were verging on post-qualitative; my deep dives into Deleuze during the course of my dissertation seemed inconsequential in the face of a call to speak on a different level.

 

While I’m fairly new to the world of escaping academic-speak, I’m sure many of you are well familiar with this flip. With the need to distill messages that we’ve spent years crafting into elegant turns of theoretical phrase into digestible morsels. Not to dumb things down, but to make sure that our messages land.

 

So, what does one say to a group of teenagers who are, at this precise moment, growing up in a world that makes sure that many bodies don’t, and will never, fit? In a society that is racist, classist, ableist, ageist, and still—somehow, still—sexist?

 

I tried to make the message about more than aesthetic ideals, because the feeling of not fitting runs so much deeper than that. We don’t dislike our bodies only because we don’t think they are beautiful—though we often don’t. We dislike our bodies because we are also told they are not doing enough; that they are wrong and unwelcome. We are simultaneously made to feel like not enough and too much in this world. We are told that we need to continually strive for productivity. If we fail in our pursuit, we are not worthy citizens.

 

These messages seep in, and of course they land on our bodies. The world wants big things from us, while it simultaneously wants to keep us small. Reconciling those tensions is challenging when living in a world that keeps the surface level interest in the aesthetic value of bodies, the struggle for voice and representation materialize corporeally.

 

It felt important to me to talk about how systemic oppressions, like racism, classism, ableism, sexism, heterosexism all impact how we feel about our bodies with this group in particular because conversations about bodies with teens too often remain stuck at the level of media literacy debunking the thin ideal. And while debunking the thin ideal—and, increasingly, the fit ideal—is a worthy endeavor, media literacy is not immunity. I tried to highlight how even when we know we should not be swayed by the pull of aesthetic ideals, we may still feel crummy about ourselves at times.

 

Normalizing this experience is not about accepting the status quo—far from it. It is about recognizing that this sense of being ill at ease in one’s body does not stem only from not being a supermodel, but also from living in a world that constantly demands perfection and productivity, gives some people more than others, and then tells us it is our fault if we don’t succeed.

 

During this talk, it didn’t matter how I had analyzed my data; the teens didn’t care about methodological rigour or sample sizes. They cared about stories, and ways to move forward. One of the most poignant questions I was asked echoed a question I ask my participants in each interview: if you could go back and tell yourself something when you were struggling, what would you say?

 

I found this question really hard to answer; after all, who’s to say I’d have listened to the dorky grad student standing up at the front of the room? I chose a simple answer, which is much harder to feel: “You are enough, exactly as you are. You are not measured by how productive you are, how thin you are, or how health conscious. You are enough.”

 

I chose this not because I believe in some Polyanna-esque version of complete body peace or think that we can realize a society untethered from productivity discourses tomorrow, but because I believe it’s important that we start by believing that we are, truly, enough (and not too much). I chose it because whether or not I would have believed it is irrelevant. I chose it because I hope that it resonates with the audience—now, or 10 years from now. And I hope it is enough.  

Harnessing the power of new technologies – meme workshop at ISCHP 2017’s conference

In this blog post, Neda Mahmoodi adds a commentary following a workshop held by Neda and Glen Jankowski at the ISCHP conference this year in Loughborough, UK. This is an adaptation of the abstract submitted for the ISCHP conference. From this it is possible to get a taste of the workshop’s aims to illustrate the promise of doing research in engaging ways that use audio-visual textual forms. 

Meme 1

(Meme 1)

Time constraints, increasing job precarity, and a ‘publish or perish’ culture can lead many of us frustrated with the impact our research has. Traditionally, research and theoretical studies have been disseminated through articles published in journals, or via conferences presentations. Disturbingly, around 1.8 million journal articles were published in 2015 alone and yet it is estimated that only half of these were actually read (1). However, the rise of the internet, particularly social media, has broadened opportunities. In this year’s workshop sessions during the 10th Biennial ISCHP conference, Glen Jankowski and Neda Mahmoodi discussed some of the free and easy methods to disseminate research beyond traditional academic outputs, including the use of memes. A meme is a virally-transmitted cultural symbol, social idea or concept expressed in some form of content. It can be a photo, a video, a person, a fictional character, an event, a song, a belief, an action, a word or anything else. It’s social phenomenon of mass online sharing makes them ideal for a rapid dissemination of ideas in an open access way, and therefore one small step to putting our ‘work to work’.

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(Meme 2)

During the conference workshop, attendees took part in a fun activity to ‘make a critical psychology related meme’ by captioning presented images. Examples created by workshop attendees includes Mariam Mousa’s (Auckland University of Technology) word art meme of the apple (meme 1) that taps into the theme of mental health and social media. Elizabeth Peel’s (Loughborough University) meme (meme 2) of the two wooden men explored the theme of taking a ‘hard’ line  when ‘processing’ knowledge in psychological and scientific research and theory.

 

The workshop also provided training in ‘how to make a podcast’. In pairs, attendees were given the opportunity to create a podcast by drafting their own interview questions and recording one another. This activity was described by attendees to be enjoyable and valued, with attendees stating that the activity showed how quick and simple it is to make and share a podcast, or a meme. Engaging in the activity gave attendees the confidence and skills to deviate from traditional methods of research outputs.

Notes:

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/half-academic-studies-are-never-read-more-three-people-180950222/?no-ist

 

Earrings – and what they tell us about medicalisation

In this moving and personal blog post, Wendy Stainton-Rogers explores her experiences of the meaningful everyday practice of getting her ears pierced. Wendy connects this with her experience becoming, and remaining, the medical subject and object due to serious illness and disability.

Wendy for blog post pic (cropped) (1)

Three weeks ago I went into a jeweller’s shop in a busy shopping mall and got my ears pierced. It was on my ‘day out’ to celebrate my 71st birthday. Possibly a bit of a weird thing to do at my age, but not that big a deal surely? Actually, for me it was a very big deal. It was the first time in years that I had got something done to my body for a frivolous reason rather than for a medical one.

In 2011 during a biopsy to see if I had cancer, my bowel was accidently punctured and, a day or so later, I felt dreadful and my temperature skyrocketed, the alarm was called and I needed to have many hours of emergency surgery to deal with the septicaemia that had ensued. From that point on my life changed dramatically and I became highly medicalised. I was incredibly compromised, ill and weak and totally dependent. For several years after that, surgical catastrophes followed, one after another and my life became completely dominated by medical procedures. These ranged from the minor ones – such as regular ‘obs’ (observations – the taking of my temperature, blood pressure and pulse throughout the day and sometimes all night too), through constantly having routine cannulas fitted and being sent for all manner of Scans, X-Rays and Ultrasounds, to very invasive procedures, such as having a Hickman line fitted (more on this later). This powerful medicalisation of my body, my life and my consciousness was intensified in the weeks and days following  two further lengthy surgical procedures attempting to get rid of the cancer.  Each time I ended up in intensive and then critical care, linked up to a barrage of machines, with a dedicated nurse constantly looking after me.

As a health psychologist, ‘medicalisation’ is a word I had certainly read about and even written about, but it signified little to me of the enormous impact of what it can do to a person – that is, until I experienced it for myself. The days of horror are over (I hope!) but I am left disabled in some interesting ways, so my life is still dominated by medicalisation. The outcome of all that went wrong with my body is that my gut was destroyed and I have a condition called ‘total intestinal failure’. This means I have to have artificial food supplied through the Hickman Line – a tube that enters my body just at the top of my left breast and goes into my bloodstream near my heart.

Every night my line has to be ‘put up’; that is, attached to a ‘giving set’ (another tube that is joined up to a 3 litre bag of liquid food) via a pump, so that the food I need to keep me alive can be pumped into my body. The pumping takes about eleven hours. ‘Putting me up’ is a fine-tuned procedure that Robin (my husband and my carer) and I do together, following strict instructions to keep the line sterile (it took us three weeks in hospital to be trained to do this). An infection in the line is potentially lethal, and leads to immediate hospitalisation and what my GP calls ‘scary antibiotics’, so we are very vigilant to make sure we get it right.

These hours of food pumping rather mucks up your day! The eleven and a half hours of ‘putting up’, pumping and ‘taking down’ is an invariable constant that has to be built into my life. At first I spent all of the time in bed, but it’s much easier now that I have a smaller stand that is easier to manipulate. I can have my food pumped into me anywhere I can get it to so I don’t have to be in bed. At one conference I wheeled it into the bar, making life much more sociable.

This kind of intrusion into one’s time is one of the strongest downsides of being medicalised. It’s all too easy to talk blithely about people having procedures like, say, chemotherapy or renal dialysis and to not to properly realise the enormous impact the way in which it devours time for the person concerned. It is totally life-limiting and intrusive.

Medicalisation has many, many facets in addition to eating into time. Another is what it does to your identity. So – back to the earrings. They used, in the past, to be very much part of my ‘style’. I have a gargantuan collection of earrings – elegant ones to wear to job interviews, flamboyant ones for parties and dancing, deeply emotionally meaningful ones that I had been given to mark special days – the list goes on and on. But through all the horrors and tribulations of hospital treatment earrings were clearly not something I could wear, and even when I got home, for a long time I was just too weak and clumsy to get them in. So my piercings closed up, and for a long while I was so sensitised to the need to be sterile that I couldn’t contemplate having my ears pierced again for fear of infection. So my ‘birthday treat’ was, indeed, a really, extremely, fabulously and magnificently big deal. And now only a few more weeks to go and I can be as frivolous with my ears as I want. Hallelujah!
Notes

1 Picture kindly provided by Wendy Stainton-Rogers to accompany this blog post. 

Sun, strawberries, and social representations theory: ISCHP 2017

ISCHP has been kindly granted permission by Katie Bevans-Wright to re-post a piece of writing posted on July 16th 2017 after Katie attended this year’s ISCHP conference in Loughborough, UK. The original article can be found at https://drkatiewright-bevans.com/2017/07/16/sun-strawberries-and-social-representations-theory-ischp-2017/.

Katie blog post pic(1)

This week I attended my second International Society of Critical Health Psychology Conference – a good time for a first blog post!

It had been four years since my last ISCHP. Back then I was in the early days of my PhD research and the Bradford conference opened my eyes to a world of passionate critical health psychologists. I was very much looking forward to Loughborough 2017 and it certainly didn’t disappoint. From arriving on a sunny Sunday afternoon to a reception of bangers and mash, and strawberries and cream, to the final (and very inspirational) keynote on the Wednesday by Dave Harper the whole 3 days were just fantastic. Unlike many other conferences where I feel very much on the margins as a critical social psychologist, I feel at home at ISCHP. My impression of ISCHP is that it is a critical space through and through, embracing scholars from many different theoretical and methodologically orientations and addressing a HUGE range of social and health concerns. There appears to be an understanding across the board that the most popular way of doing things is not necessarily the best or most effective one.

Scanning through the conference programme was not a case of locating where ‘my kind of talks’ were on and when but instead (refreshingly) having to face tricky decisions about what to attend and what to miss out on. Two of this events themes (‘diversity and inclusivity’ and ‘ageing’) summed up much of my research and interests, adding to dilemmas over which talks to attend. I thoroughly enjoyed talks on ageing and issues such as social inclusion, physical activity and sexual health. Many of the diversity and inclusivity talks touched upon the challenges of conducting good quality, ethical co-produced research with ‘disadvantaged’ or marginalised communities – these were most definitely relatable.

Presenting in one of two symposia on the theory of social representations was a personal highlight. For me this was an opportunity to position my work in the context of this fascinating and evolving theoretical framework. Between the two symposia, eight scholars (including colleagues at Keele: Michael Murray and Jenny Taylor) presented research on innovations in theory and methodology. It was inspiring to see SRT used to underpin novel methodologies such as film analysis and also to see people exploring different theoretical combinations to better understand social issues.

I came away from ISCHP 2017 feeling inspired, energised and motivated to crack on with the paper I’m currently working on! On top of that I met many friendly like-minded academics who I hope to cross paths with in the future. Already looking forward to ISCHP 2019!


Notes

1 Katie Wright-Bevans kindly gave permission for the picture to be republished on ISCHP’s website to accompany this blog post. 

For more information about ISCHP 2017’s successful conference in the UK the reader may wish to see the ‘Past conferences’ page of this website.


Telling tales of gendered bodies: Professor Virginia Braun’s Inaugral

Renowned feminist academic Virginia Braun recently gave her inaugral lecture: “Telling tales of gendered bodies: A personal and political reflection on critical scholarship in Trumped-up times” or the alternative title: “Trump Stole My Ontology”.

Not only is Virginia Braun lauded for her feminist work but also for her methodological innovation. Along with Victoria Clarke (see below), Professor Braun is the co-author of one of the most cited papers in psychology (an accessible guide to thematic analysis) and the co-author of Successful Qualitative Research

You can listen to her inaugural below and find out more about her here.

Alternative link to Inaugral:

black and white
Professor Virginia Braun (L) and her long time collaborator and friend Dr Victoria Clarkecit

The 10th Biennial Conference at Loughborough University, UK: A view from the Conference Chair

~Elizabeth Peel / @profpeel

When the sunny 9 July 2017 opening of ISCHP2017 came around, featuring the book launch of the Critical Approaches to Health book series, and poetry from local BME and men’s mental health group Showcase Smoothie (and local ales, pies and strawberries and cream!) it seemed like only yesterday I was discussing putative themes and keynotes with the ISCHP Committee in front of a log fire in Grahamstown, South Africa two years previously.

We were delighted to host ISCHP2017 at Loughborough and welcome 120 delegates from 24 different countries to the campus. While the parallel streams focused on the conference themes of ageing, diversity and inclusivity, mental health, and innovations in critical theory and method contained excellent critical scholarship, for me it was the plenary sessions (and the ceilidh!) that made the conference.

There was a series of excellent ‘mystery’ provocative five-minute challenges namely:

  • Are we working within silos of knowledge? (Poul Rohleder);
  • Considering our discipline’s footprint in addressing global health issues (Britta Wigginton);
  • Is critical psychology still relevant in a ‘post-truth’ era? (Adam Jowett).

And the cryptically entitled:

  • Why are we talking about …. again? (Anthea Lesch);
  • The biggest lie on the Internet (Ally Gibson);
  • actuALLY (Brett Scholz);
  • Optimism (Andrea Lamarre); and
  • An honour of which I am very sensible (Glen Jankowski)

We had six excellent pre-conference workshops. I attended Neda Mahmoodi and Glen Jankowski’s practical session in which we developed impromptu memes and podcasts. Other workshops covered visualising health and illness (Ally Gibson & Andrea LaMarre), multi-media storytelling (Elisabeth Harrison & Carla Rice), using photography (Periklis Papaloukas & Iain Williamson), qualitative research (Wendy Stainton-Rogers & Carla Willig) and conversation analysis (Marco Pino & Charles Antaki). Wider aspects of the conference programme included a very interesting film and a photography display, both very well received.

The four keynote speakers – Ama de-Graft Aikins, Antonia Lyons, Davina Cooper and Dave Harper – did a really excellent job of stimulating thought and discussion around the important topics of Africa’s chronic illness burden, youth drinking cultures, prefigurative concepts, and public mental health respectively. The pecha kucha presentations were diverse and of a very high standard. I’d encourage those already planning (?!) for ISCHP2019 to consider the plenary formats of pecha kucha and five-minute challenge as their submission format of choice: not only do they capture the audience; but you capture a wider audience too. Here you can revisit the full programme_and the book of abstracts.

 No conference is complete without dancing and prizes! Our heart rates were impressively raised at the post-Gala dinner ceilidh and book/Routledge book voucher prizes were awarded to the following:

  • Student presentation: Sarah Gillborn (Leeds Beckett University)
  • Poster: Ian Williamson (De Montfort University)
  • Pecha kucha: Craig Owen (St Marys University)
  • 5 minute challenge: Harriet Gross (University of Lincoln)
  • Social media contributions: Andrea Lamarre (University of Guelph)
  • Most enthusiastic ceilidh dancer: Glen Jankowski (Leeds Beckett University)

Mine is just one perspective on the conference and there will be many others. As a community is needed to raise a child, so too is one needed to organize a conference, and my thanks go out again to all the conference planning committee, Sue White and other Loughborough team members Kathrina Connabeer, Carolyn Plateau, Laura Thompson and Gemma Witcomb. Psychology technician Peter Beaman popped over at late notice to take this great set of photographs for posterity, enjoy!

 


Last but not least, please do complete the conference feedback form – a really helpful thing to do, and useful for the team who takes on ISCHP2019.

 

1 day left to submit oral presentations for ISCHP17

Tomorrow, 10th March 2017, is the final day for submitting your abstracts for oral presentation formats for our conference – ISCHP 2017 in Loughborough.

Image result for abstract submission comic
Image credit: statistically-funny.blogspot.co.uk

You can select from a range of oral presentation formats – pecha kucha (20 visual slides), 5-minute challenge presentations, or the classic oral presentation (10 minutes plus 5 minutes for questions). Symposia of three or four talks are also still open. Abstracts for these oral presentation formats are all due by the end of this Friday (10th March) UK time. Abstracts must be submitted using the forms available at http://ischp2017.weebly.com/oral-presentations.html and sent by email to the conference email address (ISCHP2017@lboro.ac.uk). Abstracts must be a maximum of 250 words with no subheadings or references.

 

Only ePoster abstracts will be accepted after 10th March (until the final poster abstract deadline of 1st April). Posters will be displayed throughout the conference and are a great opportunity to bring along work you’ve been involved with if your collaborators cannot attend, or for students to attend with late-breaking research.

Registration is open at http://ischp2017.weebly.com/registration.html (early bird deadline: 30th April 2017).

‘Autism has never caused me any pain – but the stigma has’: Interview with Julie Dachez

~By Andrea LaMarre alamarre@uoguelph.ca

This blog post takes the form of an interview with recent social psychology PhD graduate, Julie Dachez. Julie was diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome at the age of 27 and has been an activist ever since. She has just earned a doctoral degree in Social Psychology (“Another way of looking at autism: a psychosocial approach”). She is the author of the blog emoiemoietmoi.over-blog.com and of the graphic novel “La différence invisible”. She holds conferences all around France about autism and the pathologising of difference and has recently been named personality of the year by a french newspaper. Andrea interviewed Julie by email over the course of December about the experience of doing critical research on Aspergers in an environment not always open to critical perspectives.

social-model

Image from The Medical Model of Disability: http://ddsg.org.uk/taxi/medical-model.html

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ProfFile: Wendy Stainton-Rogers

This is the third in our new series ProfFile: informal interviews with leading or under recognized critical health psychologists. This month’s ProfFile is with Professor Wendy Stainton-Rogers, who is based in Yorkshire, UK.  A key organizer of ISCHP, Wendy has blazed a trail for many of us working in critical health, social and feminist psychology. For previous ProfFiles see here and here

Wendy
Wendy at the Psychology of Women Section Conference, UK, July 2016. Image credit: Dee Lister. For more pics that Dee took at the POWS conference see her Flickr page

What is your current position?

I’m now retired but still a ‘Professor Emerita’ at the Open University in the UK. However, it’s rather more complicated than that.

Less than a month after my retirement in September 2011 I had to have a biopsy to see if I had developed cancer. This small procedure went catastrophically wrong and I was very ill for several years with the aftermath. As I write, five years later, yes I do have cancer, but not the aggressive one first diagnosed. It affects me but I am much recovered from what happened (more surgical catastrophes and two periods of acute starvation). Over this time I had most of my gut removed (hence the malnutrition). So these days I am IV fed by tube, pumped in for 11 hours overnight. I can’t eat at all, but can cook, so all is not lost.

It was what you might call a severe case of participant-observer experience! I have been encouraged to write about it, and maybe I will, given time. In sociological terms,  these days I’m a bit of a cyborg with a tube sticking out of me and have a Klingon carapace stuck on my abdomen, so I do see myself as very alien and disfigured.  Becoming disabled has been a truly salutary experience. I am out of a wheelchair now but have an intimate knowledge of the bowels of Leeds Beckett university’s (in Leeds, UK) rather laberynthine arrangements for access.

The good news is that I am getting better and now active academically once again. This year I’ve been to some seminars and the British Psychological Society’s Psychology of Women Section (POWS) conference, and am currently working hard on editing the second edition of the Sage Handbook of Qualitative Research in Psychology, together with Carla Willig. I’m keenly looking forward to attending the ISCHP conference in 2017, and even thinking of making some kind of contribution.

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Taking stock: Gearing up for ISCHP 2017

~Glen Jankowski, site co-editor

Being critical in a neoliberal discipline can often feel exhausting. We’re fighting an uphill battle and it can seem like little progress has been made, especially when we look at how long we’ve been fighting it.

Go back to 1987 for instance when the gods of discourse analysis, Jonathon Potter and Margaret Wetherell (1987, p. 174) tried to address the need to get out of the ivory tower in psychology in their book on discourse analysis:

We feel that researchers should pay considerably more attention to the practical use of their work over and above the amassing of research findings and the furtherance of careers…the image of a benign body of practitioners waiting to read the journals of pure scientists and put research findings into practice is heartwarming but unrealistic”.

discourse

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Critical texts for those new to critical psychology

~Britta Wigginton (b.wigginton@uq.edu.au)

The field of critical psychology can seem overwhelming.

I speak from personal experience. I completed my PhD in a department that was entirely positivist (‘scientific’), with the exception of my supervisor who encouraged me, despite being in the first month of my PhD, to attend the 2011 ISCHP conference in Adelaide. For me, critical psychology has been as much a professional as it has a personal (re)education into the world.

critical psychology reading list

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Telling it briefly

Why short presentations are preferable

Kerry Chamberlain

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[Image: Andrew Russeth  Flickr (licensed under Creative Commons)]

Over the last few years, I have become an ardent advocate of the SUSISD approach (Stand Up, Say It, Sit Down) for conference (and other) presentations, an advocate for short, sharp presentations that focus directly on the key message(s), never more than 3 or 4, that you want to get across. In short, I am a huge advocate for telling it briefly.

We have all been at conference presentations where we were bored by being told semi-irrelevant things, or worse, completely irrelevant things, or even worse again, where we were subjected to Powerpoint karaoke (why don’t some presenters realise that we can read faster than they can talk?). Longer conference presentations (and I mean the 15 minute variety) seem to force delivery of unnecessary or irrelevant content.

For example, someone who has done some great research into Type 1 diabetes and found some intriguing insights needs only to tell us about what they did, what they found, and what that means (the insights part). They do not need to tell us how widespread Type 1 diabetes is, what its long-term effects are, how it is treated, and so on. We only came to find out what is new and different, not what we already knew. Longer presentations (yes, even those 12 minute plus 3-for-questions ones) seem to promote such extraneous, scene-setting content. All reminiscent of a statement from Winston Churchill: “I’m going to make a long speech because I’ve not had time to prepare a short one.” In contrast, short presentations force direct and engaging accounts. Telling it briefly makes it more interesting and engaging.

Why is short and sharp better? Well, as Olivia Mitchell said several years ago (bit.ly/1UvhoXR), they force you to think hard about exactly what you want to say, to carefully plan what you want to say, and to have a clear focus for your presentation. They also force better advance preparation and they stay to time. Everyone in the audience gets the point(s) more easily and, a further bonus, they get to hear more presentations across a session. As Mark Dytham, one of the inventors of pecha kucha, argues, using these short formats for presentations has a liberating effect. “Suddenly, there’s no preciousness in people’s presentations. Just poetry.”

In running our Health Psychology Research Days at Massey University for the last two years, I have become completely dictatorial, and forced presenters to take on one or other one of two presentation

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Foto de Fernando Gabriel Gutierrez (Creative Commons)

formats, both short; the 5 Minute Challenge or pecha kucha. We have used these presentation formats at our recent ISCHP conferences since Adelaide in 2011 and they have been very well received – who could forget Pedro Pinto’s presentation on puberty at Grahamstown last year, or Catherine Mackenzie’s presentation on deaths from domestic violence in Adelaide, just to take two of many that stand out. However, these formats have not always been taken up quite so well by our presenting attendees. but I hope to see a lot more people taking up the challenge and presenting in these ways at our next meeting in 2017.

So what are these short formats?

Five-minute challenge (5MC) is a format where you present for only five minutes, using only five slides (plus a title slide), and where all the slides are visual (words on slides should be non-existent, or part of the image, or perhaps part of the slide design – like you could have one lovely, lonely word per slide as an image). No animations, no video or sound files, simple transitions. Here, you select those aspects of your research that you consider particularly exciting, fascinating, earth-shattering in importance, and you communicate these and why you think that. For more information, see: www.inc.com/articles/2000/05/18605.html or sbinformation.about.com/od/marketingsales/a/fiveminuteprese.htm

Pecha Kucha (PK) is Japanese (ペチャクチャ) and often translated as chit-chat, but we want it to be a litle more formal than chitchat . In this option, you present for a little longer (6 minutes and 40 seconds), but the slide parameters are more controlled, and the pace is fast. You are allowed 20 slides (exactly), and each is shown for 20 seconds (exactly) – hence your presentation is 6’40” in total. Here too, slides must be visual – no words allowed unless they are included in the image. No animations, no video or sound files, transitions are set to time in advance.

Want to know more about pecha kucha? See en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pecha_Kucha  or www.wired.com/techbiz/media/magazine/15-09/st_pechakucha# or www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGaCLWaZLI4 or www.youtube.com/watch?v=5x5FB2mxvZY and there are lots more out there.

To get some inspiration, look at http://www.pechakucha.org/watch

And note that there are likely to be a pecha kucha event offered in your area – check out Pecha Kucha for a calendar of events.

Of course, heading into these new formats will create some fear and anxiety. That’s normal, but look at bit.ly/1RqvwSL or bit.ly/23C3Obq or bit.ly/1SuxTo4 or bit.ly/20Pd4FO for advice on how to make a good presentation.

Finally, if you go for these formats you need good images, and there are lots out there. You need images with a creative commons license so you don’t breach copyright. For advice on this see bit.ly/1NJW8rU and you might want to update yourself on creative commons licenses at guides.library.harvard.edu/Finding_Images  A good place to search for images is search.creativecommons.org

So as you prepare for your next presentation, start thinking about using these short and sweet formats. You will be rewarded by the reaction form your audience.

And watch for the call for papers for our next ISCHP Conference (coming soon) where we will be actively seeking these more creative presentations.

ProfFile: Catriona Macleod

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This is the second in our new series ProfFile: informal interviews with leading or under recognized critical health psychologists. For out first ProfFile see here. This month’s ProfFile is with Professor Catriona Macleoad at Rhodes University in South Africa. The lead organizer of the 2015 ISCHP conference , Catriona is a trailblazing academic who has helped bring feminist theory into critical health psychology. Her book ‘Adolescence’, pregnancy and abortion: constructing a threat of degeneration (published by Routledge)  was awarded the Distinguished Publication Award by the Association for Women in Psychology, based in America. 

What is your current position?

I am currently the SARChI Chair of Critical Studies in Sexualities and Reproduction, Professor of Psychology at Rhodes University in South Africa, and editor-in-chief of the journal Feminism & Psychology.

Could you say a bit about your career trajectory so far?

I started off as a high school Mathematics teacher. While it was never my desire to be a Mathematics teacher for ever, it proved very useful in allowing me to work and save money in order to return to university and complete my post-graduate degrees. After my Master’s degree, I worked for an organisation called the Wits Rural Facility, which combined research and community –based interventions. I went on to work at the University of Zululand in the Educational Psychology Department, and completed my PhD at the same time. I then moved to East London in South Africa where I worked in the Psychology Department of Rhodes University and the University of Fort Hare. Ten years ago, I moved to Grahamstown where I headed up the Psychology Department. I was appointed to the SARChI Chair at the beginning of 2014, and now devote all my time to research.

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The importance of Transgender Day of Visibility for health psychology

~Gareth Treharne, Department of Psychology, University of Otago, Aotearoa/New Zealand (gtreharne@psy.otago.ac.nz)

Today and evTery March 31st is Transgender Day of Visibility (see TransStudent.org or here). This day is around 6 months away from Transgender Day of Remembrance, which is held on November 20th and memorialises transgender people whose lives have been cut short (http://tdor.info). Both days serve an important purpose in raising awareness of transgender issues. Both days are pertinent to health psychology, but transgender issues continue to have very little visibility in health psychology. This oversight of transgender issues is sometimes backed up with claims that transgender issues only need to be considered when a particular piece of research or a particular health service is specifically directed at transgender people. I argue that those claims should be contested.

Today is about celebrating the visibility of transgender people. As a gay person I feel a synergy with this day of pride in being visible. I also feel a pang of trepidation at sharing that sense of synergy because today isn’t about sexuality. At the same time, I recognise an opportunity to contribute to discussions about transgender visibility from the position of a transgender ally because I know I can submit this blog post and hopefully it will be up on the website before people living in the Americas wake up to Transgender Day of Visibility. For once I can benefit from living in Aotearoa/New Zealand’s timezone where it’s always closer to tomorrow and I usually hear about international days the day after they’ve happened.
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