Researching female bodybuilders 19
was that of steroids. I was sometimes present when drugs were taken or injected,
and regularly engaged in discussions around their use.9 In one instance, a female
bodybuilder came to visit me and straight away put hundreds of pounds worth of growth hormone in my fridge. In these situations I negotiated my own moral code.10 Whilst not participating or condoning the drug taking myself, I did not condemn the actions per se. I felt that if I had removed myself from the situation or voiced disproval, it would have impacted negatively on my research, damaging the rapport that had taken so long to build up. I also felt that to ‘label’ the drug taker as ‘bad’, or deviant, or to stigmatize and exclude the issue of drug taking without trying to understand it, would be to ignore the multiple interpretations, motivations and identities of users (Mattley 1998: 156). Interestingly, as I became more immersed within the bodybuilding milieu and developed both my ‘scientific’ and my social understanding of drug use, my preconceptions and judgements about steroids changed, becoming more complex and less judgemental. Of course, this is where critics of ethnography would be quick to point out that I may have ‘gone native’ and become desensitized to ‘deviant’ issues as they became normalized to me within the culture.
Relationships in the field
Relationships based on trust, covering a wide spectrum of intimacy and engagement, are an integral and important part of the research process. This is reinforced in the case of female bodybuilders as they belong to a very small and intimate subculture. Due to this tight network and the controversial issue of drug taking, it was therefore essential that their identity was protected using pseudonyms and that confidentiality was assured. However, even within these
‘privacy constraints’, I still debated how much I should divulge about these women’s lives. As Homan (1991: 154) points out, ‘it is common for researchers to be troubled with feelings of guilt that they have betrayed their subjects’. During my research I encountered an exciting soap opera of events; from tales within the lesbian community to sex changes, relationship affairs, party drugs, cosmetic surgery and ‘damaged’ lives. When writing up, I discovered there was a fine line between capturing an accurate and colourful representation of the daily lifestyle of the female bodybuilder and revealing upsetting and potentially harmful material. As Ribbens and Edwards articulate, in this uncomfortable position I felt
‘placed on the edges, between public social knowledge and private lived experience’ (1998: 2). Ultimately, though, the protection and welfare of my participants had to be put at the forefront of my research, as without their help, trust, time and dedication, the research could never have taken place. So whilst this book is not a ‘bare-all’ account, I still believe that it allows a raw and intimate insight into some of these women’s lives. From the outset of my research (exploring the relationship between empowerment and female bodybuilding), I had decided that the foundations of my methods were to be built on the premise of feminist research (for more information see Wilkinson 1986; Wise 1987; Bernhard 1984). Whilst it is perhaps more accurate to refer to feminist methodologies in
20 Researching female bodybuilders
the plural, the core of this ideology, according to Klein (1983), resides in the idea that research is concerned about women’s issues, taking into account the needs of women and their experiences with the aim of improving their lives in some way. As unequal power relationships often reside within investigations, feminist researchers actively support a ‘partnership’ approach that locates the
‘researched’ on the same critical plane as the ‘researcher’ (Hobbs and May 1993).
Thus, within my study I hoped to diminish the potentially exploitative nature of ethnography (Stacey 1988) by creating a dialectical and reciprocal relationship based upon co-participation (Lather 1988). Some researchers using a feminist paradigm have in more recent times noted, however, that the concept of an oppressed, powerless respondent is at least partially a myth. Although power dimensions inevitably exist throughout the research process, according to Olesen (2000: 255), ‘power is only partial, illusory, tenuous and confused with the researcher responsibility’. Furthermore, it is contextual: whilst I am placed in a more powerful position when writing up the findings, during the actual fieldwork I regularly felt that the power dimensions were tipped towards my informants. For example, my meetings/interviews and training sessions were timetabled and to a certain degree governed (as one would expect) by the collaborators in the study.
With regard to the recorded interviews, many female bodybuilders claimed to have found it a positive experience, providing them with an opportunity to speak out (‘a voice’) and a chance to tell their ‘side of the story’. Several commented that they found the process interesting and thought-provoking, giving them a space to reflect upon issues and their own self-identity. Some of the narratives of verbal abuse by strangers and the antagonism that most received for choosing their way of life were hard for these women to talk about. I appreciated their trust, their openness and the bravery they demonstrated in discussing these issues with me. Due to the distressing nature of some of the accounts, I found the ethics of deciding which stories and quotes to select difficult, as even with these women’s permission, I was concerned about reiterating their personal pain by having it in print. In the end, after ‘conscience-seeking’ activity, I decided upon which quotes to use and in most cases double-checked with the participants that I still had their permission. However, the ‘transformative consequences of the research process’ (Coffey 1999: 246) undoubtedly also had some detrimental effects on the lives of these women. For example, my key informant became far more aware of the negative interactions (stares, comments and so on) that she received from outsiders following the probing of these issues with her during interviews and fieldwork encounters. In another instance, nevertheless, during a particularly challenging time in her life, she cited participating in the research as a motivating factor for bodybuilding that enabled her to carry on ‘doing what she was meant to do’. Consequently, I found that the research process has the potential to change the lives of those under study both positively and negatively, regardless of the intention or indeed the desired outcome.
Researching female bodybuilders 21
Key informants and best friends
Intimate friendships forged through the research process are not only complex in nature, but also have a considerable impact on the findings of the investigation undertaken. As Coffey (1999: 47) puts it:
The friendships we experience are part of the contradictions and ambiguities that denote the essence of fieldwork. Friendships can help to clarify the inherent tensions of the fieldwork experience and sharpen our abilities for critical reflection… Moreover they firmly establish fieldwork as relational, emotional, and as a process of personal negotiation.
Although my background was very different to that of Michelle (my key informant and collaborator), we had many things in common that helped us to establish an immediate bond. For example, we were both of a similar age (late 20s), had a slightly non-conformist approach to society, had been to university, had both been personal trainers at the same chain of health and fitness clubs and had both experienced an initial desire to weight train at a young age. Living in close proximity to each other also meant that we would spend a considerable amount of time in each other’s company. Friendships formed during ethnographic research are a contentious issue, with critics pointing out the difficulties of playing the role of both researcher and friend (Crick 1992).
Being immersed so deeply in the research, and as an apprentice ethnographer, there were times when I mishandled events and failed to manage situations appropriately.
In one situation I made the mistake of telling Michelle and her partner (Jo) what a gym member had said to me: in this event, a male gym user, who I hadn’t spoken to before, came up to me whilst I was training and insisted that I should ‘drop the weight�
��
(reduce) so as not to become too masculine and unattractive, like a female bodybuilder.
Jo reacted by immediately confronting him, arguing that he shouldn’t be allowed to
‘get away with it’. By forgetting my role as a researcher, I had ‘disturbed’ the social milieu unnecessarily and precipitated an uncomfortable and upsetting scenario.
Coffey (1999: 42) notes that close relationships are particularly difficult to maintain when the researcher has left the field, as ‘fieldwork relationships are clearly situated within social, cultural and organizational contexts… [and are]
tied up with the actual pursuit of fieldwork’. Furthermore, interpreting events and analysis in the write-up can also cause divisions and tension. Using the example of the key informant in her own research, ‘Rachel’, Coffey explains that in the write-up of events, both interpreted situations in different ways: I was writing about Rachel’s activities, interactions and career. But I was writing for an academic audience and not for her. She evidently felt hurt and betrayed by me.
In light of the difficulties Coffey mentions above, when I began writing, I was highly concerned that I may be damaging my friendship with ‘Michelle’ and
22 Researching female bodybuilders
exposing her private life to public scrutiny. Our friendship consequently had a substantial influence on how I presented my findings. Although I originally planned to focus more on my apprenticeship, body pedagogics and the micro-details involved in my key informant’s life, I decided (six months into the research) to broaden out the analysis and depersonalize it somewhat by incorporating more empirical data from different research sites and interviews with other female bodybuilders. As part of this quasi-confessional, it is perhaps worth mentioning that I did enter into a few brief relationships with male bodybuilders during the course of the research. As I became more immersed in the culture, men who were
‘normal’ in appearance became less attractive to me (and no doubt I to them, as I became more muscular). Whilst this dating experience brought me closer into the
‘hive’ of bodybuilding, these unsuccessful and stressful relationships must have ultimately impinged negatively on my interpretation of the subculture. In this context, key informants, friendships and relationships created in the field have a huge impact on how we navigate the social world – on the study, who we meet, who we initially interact with and how we begin to interpret the world that they inhabit.
Inevitably, this in turn affects both the selection and the depiction of events in the write-up, which are themselves shaped by the changes which the researcher undergoes during the research process.
My ethnographic self
Researchers need to be careful, when writing-up, that they are not ‘judging lives’
simply based on their own viewpoint and biography. As Willis (2000: 120) warns us, ‘[n]o ethnographer should say “this is how it is”, or “I know better than you do about your life”’, as what may be a detrimental practice for them may be a positive one for others. Indeed, within my own research I discovered that what was an empowering practice and fulfilling identity for my key collaborator was not the same for me. For Michelle, bodybuilding provided her with meaning, purpose and identity (by way of structure, goals and fulfilling her heroic ‘destiny’), whereas I found the culture restricting and self-disparaging. For her, keeping a training diary and monitoring her food habits provided a way of keeping in control and allowed her a sense of measurable achievement and progress as she reached her goals. In contrast, I internally rebelled against any kind of regime and structure or doing exercises that I didn’t enjoy or found uncomfortable. Several of my diary entries consisted of complaints regarding how much I hated the leg press and tricep dips, and how I occasionally found the workouts too structured and uncreative. Those were the bad days – the frustrating days, when I didn’t achieve my goals or enjoy the process. However, for the majority of the time I felt privileged to be training with such a dedicated and charismatic person, and embraced the adrenaline highs and feelings of accomplishment when the workouts went to plan.
I deeply admired the strong, confident manner of my key collaborator and friend, ‘Michelle’. Gender didn’t seem important to her – she was simply Michelle.
I almost envied her ability to be able to focus on herself, her own goals and desires, rather than the daily juggling act of trying to put other relationships first.
Researching female bodybuilders 23
Despite my respect for her and our strong friendship, despite my passion for training, my desire to build muscle and the friendships of the amazing and complex women I met during the course of my research, I could never fully embrace the bodybuilding lifestyle. Reflecting on this, I realize that however much I may try to be neutral, when I began the research I was not a tabula rasa mentally or physically. My life experiences, biography, upbringing and socialization had already shaped me. Physically, I had my ‘preferred’ body techniques and methods of training, and was used to working out by myself and in my own way. Equally, I was contained by my prior feminist perspectives (Lockford 2004). My feminism rebelled against the ‘no pain, no gain’ mantra of the masculine cosmology of the bodybuilding world and reacted against their obsession with the body’s appearance. As my role of gym user changed to that of researcher, I could no longer relax in the gym in the same way as I had previously – I was now continually observing, reflecting and scrutinizing.
If Cooley (1922 [1902]) and Mead (1962 [1934]) are correct that our identi-
ties are shaped significantly by our interactions with others (see Chapter 5), then
perhaps (risking melodrama) my identity has passed through a ‘crisis’ during this research project. For example, my self-identity, particularly in terms of body image, regularly felt ‘under attack’ during the research investigation due to the relentless stream of unsolicited, contradictory comments made about my appearance. This is demonstrated in the following examples:
Do you take steroids? (male, sports masseuse, Crete)
Are you a boxer? (male, gym user, Canterbury; male, gym user, High Wycombe)
Are you a bodybuilder? (male, gym manager, High Wycombe)
Do you take anti-estrogens? (male, gym user, Kent)
In the same time period that I received these comments, I was asked whether I actually trained at all (especially when people learnt of my research topic) and told on several occasions that I have ‘no muscle’. For example:
How come you were training for two years with female bodybuilders, but didn’t put on any muscle? (female, university conference, Bristol) You’re ‘toned’, but you’re not muscular at all (male, gym user, Kent).
You haven’t got legs, you’ve got ‘pins’ (female, gym user, Portsmouth).
These conflicting interactions undoubtedly impacted on my sense of self and added to the confusion of my own position during the research.
Whilst I felt an attraction to bodybuilding, I still had reservations (regarding the self-obsessiveness of the sport and the total focus on physical appearance), and due to my lack of muscularity (not helped by being a tall ectomorph, with high oestrogen levels), I never felt completely accepted as an insider by the bodybuilding subculture. Many of my diary entries refer to the frustration of not being able to build muscle, the impossibility of achieving the desired look of muscles and
24 Researching female bodybuilders
curves without cosmetic surgery and drugs and the difficulty of coping with ill-nesses and shoulder injuries which prevented training. Through my bodybuilding apprenticeship I learnt to read and value my body in a different way. My inherited vascularity became a source of pride, rather than something that was negatively associated with old age and ugliness in women (a couple of male bodybuilders jokingly nicknamed me ‘the vein’). My legs, however – thin by normal standards and prized in wider society – became a hindrance and source of exasperation for me within the bodybuilding culture. Whilst I became despe
rate to build my legs and ‘butt’ up, most of my friends outside the culture were trying to slim theirs down. The fact that I neither fitted in with ‘normals’ nor identified as a bodybuilder in some ways positioned me in an advantageous location from which to research the subculture, though it wasn’t always the most comfortable space to occupy. This further demonstrates the awkward position that the ethnographer must assume and deal with during the research. I have no doubt that my becoming hypersensitive to these issues of ‘identity’, ‘body image’ and ‘belonging’ was influenced by my own personality and self-awareness during the research, and it is possible that another ‘sociologist’ evaluating and exploring the world of bodybuilding would have been less influenced by the impact of their surroundings. For the majority of researchers, however, who wish to empathetically try and ‘get into the skin’ of their participants, the experience of the research will have a profound effect upon their self-perceptions and the world around them. Thus, in the same way that the natural settings of the field are disturbed by the research process, the researcher’s life is also changed.
Conclusion
This chapter has exposed the disparity between the abstract theoretical textbook manual on ‘doing’ ethnography and what actually takes place in the field. ‘Real-life’ research is a much more messy, complicated and chaotic business than is often acknowledged. Ethnographic methods provide an unsurpassed insight into the lives and experiences of female bodybuilders. However, accessing this rich and textured social landscape does ultimately come at a cost. As an apprentice ethnographer entering uncharted territory, I had to negotiate my own moral tightrope – by deciding to what extent I was prepared to go in order to obtain data, whilst at the same time protecting my participants and being able to justify my actions to my own conscience. As a consequence of these negotiations, my individual choices have impacted vastly upon the research direction, processes and findings. By providing a partial ‘confessionary’, I have hoped to offer a more open and reflective account that acknowledges the part I have played during the entire investigation and how this will undoubtedly influence and shape my conclusions.
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