When a researcher analyses the data of a study he or she organises, explains and interprets it. Fitness for purpose is once again a guiding principle in that the researcher must be clear about what the data analysis is to accomplish. This in turn influences the way in which the analysis is written up (Cohen, Manion & Morrison, 2007).
Coffey and Atkinson (1996) make the point that while there are no formulae or recipes for the best way to analyse the stories we write certain criteria are important. They contend that an analysis should take account of how a writer frames his/her experiences, how they are contextualised and the degree to which insight is shown into events, occurrences and characters. The presence of turning points in a story might also be identified, while structure and coherence are further considerations. In this sense a narrative is both viewed and analysed as a mode of reasoning (Richardson, 1997).
In the case of my study, a descriptive personal narrative is employed. The story line unfolds chronologically and, being an autoethnography, I allow it to focus on my own life experience which is contextualised when I place it within the geopolitical and educational spaces which shaped my whiteness. My narrative is analytical in its own right as events are described and analysed, explained and interpreted as the story
unfolds. I also try to stand aside from my narrative in order to analyse and think about its content.
In considering how analysis of narrative might take place Ellis (2004) suggests that it is helpful to distinguish between ‘narrative analysis’, the ‘thematic analysis of narrative’, and the ‘structural analysis of narrative’. She explains that ‘narrative analysis’ is built upon the premise that a good story is itself theoretical in that as people “…tell their stories they employ analytical techniques to interpret their worlds” (Ellis, 2004, pp. 195- 196). Here, stories are seen as being analytical in themselves, with authors setting out to carefully call up and analyse situations that they have been in or have studied at some stage. In the case of the ‘thematic analysis of narrative’ another layer of analysis is added as the author steps back from the text to use the story as data. Themes are established that illuminate the text as the focus moves from the story itself to abstract analysis. Ellis (2004, p. 196) observes that this way of analysing narrative is “…akin to grounded theory, where researchers work inductively and present their findings in the form of traditional categories and theory”. In the case of the ‘structural analysis of narrative’, by contrast, the additional layer of analysis assumes the form of stories being analysed in respect of their structure, with considerations such as linguistic features, language processes and the strategies used to reach an audience coming under the spotlight.
A distinction is made by Frank (1995) and Ellis (2004) between thinking ‘with’ a story and thinking ‘about’ a story to further clarify the ways in which analysis in narrative can occur. In the case of thinking ‘with’ a story one does not go beyond the story in that it is taken as being complete in itself. It affects one’s life and, in the experience of it doing so, truths about oneself are revealed (Trellis, 1997). Ellis (2004) sees this as being akin to ‘narrative analysis’. In the case of thinking ‘about’ a story, the story is reduced to its content and then analysed to find and study the themes, patterns, processes and strategies that are present (Ellis, 2004; Frank, 1995). This ties up with the ‘thematic’ and
‘structural’ analysis of narrative approaches described by Ellis (2004).
The difference between thinking ‘with’ a story and thinking ‘about’ a story is succinctly captured by Sparks (2002) when he suggests that an individual’s reading of personal accounts of serious illness, for example, are more likely to want to feel ‘with’ a story than simply be told ‘about’ it. Bochner and Ellis (1996) pick this up when they assert that
what autoethnographers write ‘about’ is not meant to be dispassionately consumed or received. They want their readers to empathise, to care and desire and in this sense they suggest that autoethnographers might be inclined to want to show a preference for thinking ‘with’ a story.
I see my text, in the first instance, as conforming to ‘narrative analysis’ in that my story is analytical in itself. Situations are called to the fore and they are described, explained, interpreted and analysed as the storyline unfolds. In this sense, as I write my story I think ‘with’, to follow the thinking of Frank (1995) and Ellis (2004). This is when I interrogate those events, experiences and relationships in my past which have had a bearing on the shaping of my whiteness. This is also when I acquire a greater understanding of myself and discover the parts of my life coalescing in an integrating whole which starts to make sense. This is when I am set on my self-defining path as I use my past to anticipate a better future for myself and when I hope to influence my readers and trust that they will not simply dispassionately consume what they read.
Integral to all of this is the tracing of my journey through the three southern African geopolitical spaces of my experience. Integral to this journey in turn, is the manner in which I have been both influenced by, and respond to, these geopolitical spatial forces as well as the political, geographical and educational spaces within them. As I think
‘with’ my story I recognize the impact of these forces and I recognize also that they both acted alone and in an interactive way. I think ‘with’ my story in Chapters 4 and 5.
In my study I also think ‘about’ my story, in Chapter 6. In doing so I hold my narrative up against the published literature in order to compare it with what is told there and to identify and interrogate themes which are present. Since I recognize that there are indeed other stories about me and the geopolitical and educational spaces in which I have lived I also hold my narrative up against these. An overarching theme of
‘otherness’ emerges as being present and it, in turn, is informed by several other themes which are listed below.
White superiority and the presence of different variations of whiteness in the three southern African geopolitical spaces of my experience
Geopolitical space as a socializing agency
Education as a socializing agency
The role of the ideology of liberalism in my socialization
The role of intersectionality between my whiteness and the social markers of class, gender, sexuality and religion in my socialization.
In order to analyse these themes I use, in the first instance, the lens of the ‘spatial turn’
of my study to organise my analysis according to the places and institutions I experienced in each of the three southern African geopolitical spaces of my narrative. I then analyse the themes by drawing each across all the geopolitical and educational spaces according to the theoretical framework of Symbolic Interactionism. This is explained further at the beginning of Chapter 6.
The nature of the analysis involved in the interrogation of my narrative is explained further by Wilson (1998), when he contends that autoethnographers endeavour to write
‘writerly’ texts as distinct from ‘readerly’ texts. He explains that ‘readerly’ texts take their readers along a linear, logical and predictive path through the research process.
Readers have little space in which to really make meaning. ‘Writerly’ texts are different in that they are less predictable and require readers to engage with what they are reading in more deliberate ways so that they can draw the text into their own experience and fill in any gaps for themselves. In this sense, there is co-production between the writer and the reader, with a focus on reader response which encourages involvement and connection (Sparks, 2002). It is the contention of Ter Avest (2012) that stories which have the greatest potential to transform readers are ‘open space stories’. Such stories, instead of trying to colonize readers, allow them sufficient space to deconstruct and reconstruct what they receive as they subject the text to their own memories.
I see my text as being ‘writerly’ in that there is definite scope for co-production between what I have written and what my readers produce in their minds as they read and reflect on my text. I do not see it as a colonising text and anticipate the possibility that as my readers engage they might ‘restory’ what they know, perhaps as new memories are triggered or as new interpretations are applied in the light of clarified or new understandings. I hope that there will be co-production with people who are on a similar trajectory to me. I also hope for co-production with whites who are still locked into their past and who might be persuaded to embark upon their own personal journeys.
In thinking ‘about’ my story I take due account of the tests for verisimilitude which have already been referred to. These enable me to monitor the degree to which what I have
related is able to hold up to assessments of whether my story has the appearance of being believable and credible.