Part 2 coming soon.
17 January 2022
A list of unexpected things that happened today after I launched my study.
1. People shared it on Twitter.
I posted about my study on Twitter and directed participants to the link to my survey. I expected one or two people from my office to retweet this post and maybe 5-10 people to like it. As it stands, three hours after posting, 22 people have retweeted it – only six of whom I know personally. 18 have liked it. One of my supervisors commented to say congrats, as well as messaging me privately to say I should include a textual description of image in my post (good advice, duly noted and amended).
I know these numbers may sound low, but imagine it like this. You go to a party. You know one person. You expect to talk to that one person, then leave. Instead, twenty people gather around you and show interest in what you have to say. It’s unexpected, and pleasant, and a touch overwhelming. I don’t interact on Twitter much, so this was a huge surprise to me.
1.1 This seems to imply that people trust me and my work.
I include that I’m a PhD student in my Twitter bio, along with my school and research interests. No-one has checked my skills or credentials before reposting my work (to my knowledge). This possibly indicates that people aren’t too discerning online. But maybe this is how it feels to be credible or authoritative. Or that people find my research topic to be valuable. This is new to me. I am very used to justifying myself. I am used to feeling unimportant.
This might also relate to the way I feel about online interaction. I rarely feel like I have much to contribute that properly adds to the discussion. Plus I feel it’s totally egotistical (for me) to discuss anything personal in a public sphere.
2. People filled out the survey.
This indicates several surprising things.
2.1 People trust me (or at least, they trust the work I presented).
Without knowing who I am, people navigated to my survey and sunk 20 minutes of their day on invasive and potentially distressing questions about their lives. This must indicate that my online presence – maybe my profile, mode of speech, or affiliated institution – is credible enough to trust. They might additionally be excited to share their story or feel the research is important, but credibility surely has to come first.
2.2 People trust me with their story.
This survey was entitled “A study of sex and consent: understanding women’s experiences and outcomes”. This is a deeply personal topic that apparently people are willing to share about with me. The materials in the post also state that this survey will be around “experiences of unwanted or non-consensual sex” – so, triggering as well as personal. That’s a lot.
2.3 People are willing to take time out of their day to do something that doesn’t benefit them at all, for the sake of helping me / furthering the research.
I mean, participants get to go in a draw to win one of five $40 gift cards. But that’s not on the Twitter post – they don’t know that before they click the link.
3. I realised I would have to do my study.
It hasn’t felt real before today. I have planned this project for nearly two years. It never felt like the data collection phase would ever occur. It’s always been theoretical. Now I have to actually collate survey responses, email potential participants, organise and conduct interviews. Like… what?
3.1 This is scary.
What if I fuck up? What if I piss someone off? What if one of my participants is genuinely worse off after speaking with me about their experiences? Rape is not a light topic; people don’t go into this expecting to have a good time. I’m sure people know what they’re getting into. But what if their trust is misplaced? I am very new to this. Therapy is expensive and I don’t want to be the trigger for someone to run to their psych.
4. Honesty is vulnerable.
Here in this post, I’ve presented my surprises and fears frankly because I often feel like I’m the only one who feels this way. This can make me feel really alone, like everyone else is managing just fine and I’m the only one struggling. This can also be isolating, because opening up to others feels risky. What if I really AM the only one who feels this way? Now I’m the weirdo who’s struggling with something that everyone else does naturally. And we kick weirdos out of the tribe (or so the fear narrative goes).
Thankfully, I know (cognitively if not emotionally) that I’m not the only person who feels like this. I feel extremely lucky to have a great cohort of HDRs around me; the Justice PhD candidates at QUT are a simply fantastic bunch. We’ve shared lots of conversations about fears and struggles during the PhD process. These chats are comforting and encouraging, and they help me remember the truth: nearly all my concerns are shared by my peers.
For this reason, I’ve tried to be blunt about how this process has made me feel. If you’re in a similar space, you’re not alone.
Zero Highlight 