Trustworthiness when using autoethnography as a method became the focus of attention and fell under the spotlight in my discussions with the cohort group that I belonged to. My readings of literature confirmed that in autoethnography, validity can be problematic.
Feldman (2003) emphasises that validity and reliability are two concepts of critical importance in understanding issues of measurement in research. He postulates that when researchers engage in reflective processes that focus on themselves, they cannot be sure of the accuracy of what they see.
In addition, the use of self as the only data source has brought the validity of autoethnography into question. Because of the excessive focus on self in isolation from others, autoethnography has been critiqued as being too self-indulgent and narcissistic to the extent that Pathak (2010) questions whether autoethnography is ‘research’ or ‘I search’ (Ellis, 2003; Palmer, 2008; Holt,
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2003). This raises the concern that autoethnography has the potential to lack self-criticality. This can result in writing that is not useful to the researcher and others. To counteract this argument, scholars who promote autoethnography emphasise that a study that discounts the role of the researcher in the process is not providing a holistic view regarding the culture studied. They emphasise that they do not apologise for the personal nature of this inquiry, asserting that autoethnography has a therapeutic effect on authors and readers (Bochner & Ellis, 2002;
Manning, 2009). Manning (2009) challenges the critique of autoethnography as self-indulgent by maintaining that she continues to explore the balance between writing about ‘self’ and ‘other’ and reframes a focus on self as “being essential and enlightening for one’s own understanding of ethical research practice” (p. 5). In my own study, I hope to use the self as an instrument of understanding to arrive at passionate knowing (Belenky et al., 1986).
A further point of contention regarding the validity of autoethnography is that autoethnographers use biased data, and are referred to as ‘navel gazers’ because they do not hypothesise, analyse and theorise. These processes are believed to be essential requirements of scholarship. Detractors see an overemphasis on narration rather than analysis and interpretation of the self in autoethnography, which does not sit comfortably with the traditional criteria used to judge qualitative inquiries (Sparkes, 2000; Anderson, 2006; Madison, 2006). In this regard Feldman (2003) suggests that one way to ensure validity is to go beyond mere representation of one’s findings and demonstrate how one constructed one’s representations. He suggests key ways to ensure validity in self-study. These include the researcher providing a clear and detailed description of how data is collected, and making explicit what counts as data in one’s work. It is also imperative to give clear and detailed descriptions of how the representation from one’s data was constructed. This would add to the validity of the representation if readers had some knowledge or insight into the way the researcher transformed data into an artistic representation.
Finally, Feldman argues for the need to extend triangulation beyond multiple sources of data to include explorations of multiple ways of representing the same self-study. Because one dataset can lead to a variety of representations, it is important to show why one has been chosen over another. However, multiple representations that support and challenge one another can add to the reasons to believe and trust the self-study and can serve as analysis and interpretation.
The question of objectivity in autoethnographic research raises further issues of validity and trustworthiness. It can be argued that when we engage in reflective processes that focus on ourselves, we cannot be sure of the accuracy of what we see.
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However, it is argued that as a result of subjectivity it becomes vital for us to make sure that we are not blinded or fooled in the way we construct our stories. It becomes imperative to provide reasons for why others should trust our findings (Chang, 2008; Anderson, 2006; Spry, 2001).
Ellis and Bochner (2000), however, emphasise that there is no pretence of objectivity in autoethnography as the researcher’s own experience becomes the object of investigation as he or she becomes fully committed and immersed in the contexts and groups he or she studies.
Closely associated with the issue of subjectivity and objectivity is the credibility of the narrator.
In this instance the exclusive reliance on personal memory and recall as a data source has its own complexities that lead one to question whether the narrator could really have had the experiences described against the available factual evidence, and whether the narrator really believes that the experience he or she describes had really happened. For autoethnographers, validity means that a work seeks verisimilitude. It should evoke in readers the perception that the feelings described are lifelike, believable, possible and plausible (Ellis et al., 2011; Bochner, 2002).
Having considered the pitfalls of and counterarguments against the validity of autoethnography, I investigated ways to ensure the validity of my own research. I drew on Richardson’s (2000) observations on how poststructuralist theories offer support to qualitative writers, firstly by directing us to “understand ourselves reflexively as persons writing from particular positions at specific times”, and secondly by freeing us “from trying to write a single text in which everything is said to everyone” (p. 518). Manning (2009) posits that knowing that one is writing from a particular position/s at a particular time can be both constraining and liberating.
In this regard, it can be argued that reflexivity not only provides insight into emotions and reactions that are not available by observation alone, but it can provide the reader with the necessary information for assessing validity. It is contended that the reader would be able to see the viewpoint of the research context (Manning, 2009; Richardson, 2000).
Positionality is essentially the practice of a researcher delineating his or her position in relation to the study with the implication that this position may influence aspects of the study, for example types of information collected, the authenticity of the data collected or the way in which the data is interpreted. However, it is argued that our positionality is not fixed but relational. It is a
“constantly moving context that constitutes our reality and the place from which values are interpreted and constructed” (Robertson, 2002, p. 9).
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I am aware of the position from which I am writing, i.e. that of a school principal. What concerns me most about my position is that the position of principal puts me in a different location from others, within a hierarchy where the members of staff feel obliged in some ways to be deferential to the title. Staff members were unable to answer discussion questions honestly, because of repercussions that they imagined were possible because of my position of power.
This position of power, in addition, made me feel ‘othered’ in that I was always viewed from the other side and, at times I felt that my position put me in an irreconcilable position of difference.
Nonetheless this raised questions of how I could play with different positionalities to build trust and get honest answers. I had to negotiate power relations constantly and grappled with this in my writing.
Some of the ways in which I tried to overcome this tension included having discussions out of working hours in more casual settings, using a neutral researcher to conduct interviews in order to counteract the power relations involved in a school, and conducting some discussions in isiZulu, which is the mother tongue of a majority of the staff at Hilltop School. The use of mother-tongue communication facilitated a more relaxed and conducive environment, and gave participants the ability to express themselves easily. These conversations had to be translated and transcribed for me. Despite many attempts to deal with my position of power and difference, I was not able to neutralise my position and I believe that this had an influence on the reflections of others on my leadership behaviours.
However, reflecting on my positionality and the way others constructed my identity helped me to engage more fully in reflexivity. Thus, reflexivity provided me with insights into ideas and emotions I had about myself and how others viewed me, which would not have been available from observation alone. In addition, by recognising that my position as principal affects the research process, I used this knowledge to resist the urge to proclaim my knowledge as powerful.
This, according to Richardson (2000), can be a liberating experience. In this way, I argue for the usefulness of positionality. It is emphasised that positionality can be useful if one’s position is reflected upon and articulated in terms of its influence on the fieldwork (Robertson, 2002;
Manning, 2009; Richardson, 2000).
Furthermore, with regard to power and position, Richardson (2000) emphasises that language is how social organisation and power are defined and contested, and is the place where our sense of self and subjectivity are constructed. Thus, I saw language not only as a means of reflecting on social reality but also as a means for creating it. In my research I engaged thoroughly with reflexive editing (Petersen, 2008) through the process of being honest and present in my writing.
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Through reflexive editing I ensured that my research was conducted in a disciplined, systematic and rigorous manner.
The use of ‘critical friends’ in autoethnography adds validity and has the potential to counterbalance self-indulgence with resonance (Samaras, 2011). Schunck and Russell (2005) explain that the notion of the critical friend is central to self-study, and contend that critical friends serve as a sounding board, raise challenging questions, support the reframing of events and issues, and become an important part of the professional learning experience. McNiff, Lomax and Whitehead (1996) assert that “the critical friend, regardless of status or role, is expected to help the researcher achieve a critical perspective even though this may challenge the normal assumptions underlying the researcher’s work” (p. 85). Costa and Kallick (1993) explain that “a critical friend, as the name suggests, is a trusted person who asks provocative questions, provides data to be examined through another lens, and offers critique of a person’s work as a friend” (p. 50). My critical friends comprised of peers in my PhD cohort group in the School of Education, my supervisor, and a senior lecturer/researcher at the university who has an interest in self-study methodology.
Interactions with my critical friends certainly provoked and challenged my thinking and made me reflect more deeply on my values, assumptions and practices as a leader. This process was filled with tensions on the one hand, and yet was supportive and trusting. I was challenged to question, critique and recreate my thoughts embedded in my narratives. I felt that my construction of my narratives was constantly put under scrutiny, and I was supported in the process of reframing events. I was forced to delve deeper into the motivations for my actions and the events that shaped my practices, and I constantly had to self-question the interpretations and meanings I was making of my lived experiences. I had to look more deeply inwards and also look outwards beyond the self. I was drawn to the silences in my narrative and the underlying motivations for them. Overall, I trusted my critical friends and knew that their critique was underpinned by their commitment to support me in producing a scholarly piece of research.