When theory is mentioned, a few things tend to happen. I cringe and roll my eyes. I avoid any commitment. I go into different wormholes, thinking none of this seems right – while also trying to find some magic that will help me think with (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012) the data better. I resist. I argue, with myself and others, that these theories are moving me away from the work that participants in my research produced. It doesn’t seem ‘right’ to narrow down participants’ work, our process, feelings, and data to a particular lens – and then put it out there for others to read. I worry that theory can start to make my writing and representation of the participants’ work more esoteric, separate from everyday practices. In short, I had (and have) this dreaded feeling, which gnaws at me whenever I start to think about theory. I think you get the picture…
It’s problematic – right? At least I believed it was.
When I set out to do my dissertation research as a doctoral student, these theory ‘troubles’ consumed me. I thought I had to decide what theory I was going to use for the project. Yet, I also resisted. The things that were first being told to me did not seem quite ‘right’ – did not seem to do the participants and our process justice. This could be because, let’s face it, I had (and really have) no idea what I was doing and also because, within the context of my dissertation research, so much was happening that I did not expect – could not have expected – until it happened.
One example of this was the pedagogical encounter (Tinning, 2010) described in my Sport, Education and Society paper (Safron, 2020), which continues to be a focus in this blog.
On that seventh week of the scrapbooking project, when two fitness professionals came to talk with me and four young participants, I had no idea that this encounter would become what it did – that it would illuminate feelings, interactions, and movements I could never have planned. I felt an urge to write about it, talk about it, imagine where this encounter (involving interactions between youth and adults, knowledges, conversation) could go and what it could produce. I did not know any answers but, it stuck with me.
I also did not know how to think with, or through, some of this data. The data generated was powerful. It began to move me. It moved others (young participants, fitness professionals) to think, act, and respond. How could I illuminate some of that?
I could not ignore it any longer. I had to revisit theory, this time with data generated from the pedagogical encounter. Much to my surprise, I discovered (with the help of a few individuals) affect theory – and what affect could do with data in this encounter.
I want to make a few points about what I mean by affect here, or at least how I used it in the pedagogical encounter. In writing about the possibilities of thinking with theory, Jackson and Mazzei (2012) argue that an essential part of doing so, or plugging texts (theory, data, ourselves) into one another, is to be “deliberate and transparent” (p. 5). So, while there are an infinite number of ways with which to use affect (Seigworth & Gregg, 2010), there were certain philosophers (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987) and scholars (Hickey-Moody, 2013; MacLure, 2013) to whom I have turned – whose writings drew me in because of their affects.
Anna Hickey-Moody (2013) and her chapter Affect as Method: Feelings, Aesthetics and Affective Pedagogy pulled at me. In the opening paragraph, she wrote “affect is what moves us. It’s a hunch. A visceral prompt” (p. 79). And, indeed it was – an underlying sensation stuck from the interactions within the pedagogical encounter. It led me to explore further. Maggie MacLure (2013) tied affect to wonder, articulating that wonder, like affect, is relational as “It is not clear where it originates and to whom it belongs” (p. 229). Again, I had been part of this pedagogical encounter. I sat (and participated) with the four young people and two fitness professionals during the hour and 45-minute discussion. I did not know how this encounter became what it did or then, what it might actually do. Through affect theory, however, I began to feel generative possibilities to think with the data. I could explore those in/between moments. I was able to pause alongside the pedagogical encounter in more depth. I could imagine what data and theory – together – could produce. Moreover, it was only possible to do so after the encounter took place. Affect, as I draw on it here, is not pre-determined or known in advance. Affective intensities are produced as bodies (such as young people, myself, fitness professionals, knowledges) come into contact at certain moments with potential to produce change within or from our interactions.
I finally had some clarity (though never for long).
So, what’s the point?
I, the reluctant theorizing doctoral student, began to discover I did not need a specific theory from the get-go. I let go of theory as a preconceived tool, prescribed in a particular situation and, instead, imagined theory as ways to inquire (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012). I think this data, my ongoing experiences, and continued reading led me to affect theory and made my uncertainty and questions okay.
In short, I discovered that theory – affect in this case – offers possibilities to think with, write, and (re-)present things that I did not know in the first place. While it still never feels quite ‘right’ to take participants’ work, entangle it with my own words and a specific theoretical perspective, I did take notice that theory can illuminate ways of inquiry that I would not otherwise be able to articulate. This may have begun with the one paper and pedagogical encounter – that “hunch” or “visceral prompt” (Hickey-Moody, 2013) – but affect stuck, both throughout my dissertation data and in everyday life. I provide two brief examples from each of these.
First, my entanglement with affect deepened as I revisited data generated from my dissertation. Thinking with affect theory helped me realize I did not have to stick to traditional patterns or common themes. I no longer had to value written words over all else. Affect is as much about silences, noises, images, and objects as it is about words. In this, it offered opportunities to explore arts-based approaches such as collaging (https://vimeo.com/342140495) and poetic transcription (https://vimeo.com/424577650). It provided space to create a video for the end of my dissertation defense (not shared here due to my technical difficulties L).
While each video is a small part of a larger project, I hope for them to be a reminder of the potential in decentering written words. I hope that such approaches can de-territorialize or produce lines of flight (Deleuze & Guattari, 1987) for the ways in which we think through, do, and (re-)present our work. Isn’t that some of what ‘playing with research’ is about?
The second example I briefly explore reminded me more recently that sometimes theory is not so separate from everyday life. I begin with an image with which I encourage you to take pause.
I am curious:
What do you see in these images?
What do you feel through these images?
What affects you – draws you in and makes you wonder?
It might be nothing and that is okay. Everyone responds differently – another potential of affect. For me, these images bring many senses (hearing, smelling) and memories to the surface. I see scarily vacant streets at the same time that I hear crowds of people swarming. I feel an eeriness in the emptiness while also being in awe of massive open spaces I have never experienced. I hear car horns honking and street vendors taking coffee orders, even as I am surrounded by quiet.
These are pictures I took of New York City in August 2020. They are of Radio City Music Hall (near Rockefeller Center), Grand Central Station, and Times Square. I took them on a Thursday morning around 9am. At this time, hordes of people should be scurrying off trains and subways, elbow to elbow, grabbing coffee from street vendors, and rushing to work. At this hour, I am typically zigzagging my way through the streets to dodge harried New Yorkers and meandering tourists. Yet, in August 2020, six months after New York ‘hit pause’ due to COVID, noisy crowded city streets are filled with an eerie silence. I have lived in New York City most of my life. I have never seen this. The lack of people, the understanding of why they are not here, the pure emptiness of hubs of transportation and tourism, and the billboard screen with the year 2021 and a question mark become (material) bodies that collided with my own body during my walk to produce affects. Moments of past (Broadway shows, museums, visiting my dad’s office near Rockefeller Center) and present (shuttered businesses, empty streets) come together as I walk, creating an intensity I can’t quite describe. Looking at these images, even now, a chill and nervousness hits my body. I think of all the things that New York City is about and wonder what such eerie silence will do to The City That Never Sleeps. Affect walks alongside and with me in everyday life.
So, on the one hand, I have started to buy into this theory thing. From examples in my research data and everyday life, I discovered that theory does have a purpose – maybe even more than one. Still, I sit with my theory ‘troubles’ and do not see myself letting go of such uncertainties and hesitation anytime soon. I want to be clear that affect is simply what worked for me, first in thinking with data generated during the pedagogical encounter and then in my dissertation more broadly. I also realize that even as I come to some temporary ‘clarity,’ there is no perfect theory and, with data always partial and incomplete, I can only ever share part of a story. Yet, if you choose the ‘right’ theory or, even better, let the theory choose you, it may begin to illuminate some ways of thinking that you never thought possible. It may lead to change (in you or others).
Now, as I close out my foray into theory ‘troubles,’ I hope to leave anyone still reading this with two broad suggestions:
1. Sit with the discomfort. I am not, nor will I ever be, an ‘expert’ in affect theory, even as I used it to defend my dissertation. It is OKAY not to know. It is OKAY to struggle and be uncertain. Sometimes, it is those obstacles that shine new light into the research and pedagogical practices with which we engage.
2. In this discomfort, give yourself the chance to explore what might be ‘right’ for you, at that time, with your data, and within your context. Jackson and Mazzei’s (2012) book, Thinking with Theory in Qualitative Research, provided a good starting place for me to realize that one set of data can be read through different theorists. Others (Augustine, 2014; Childers, 2014; Sperka, 2019) have written how the theories that one begins with do not need to remain the same throughout analysis or that different theories can come into conversation with each other and within the data. It is always important to keep reading, writing, and playing with inquiry.
Using affect, in these instances, began to provide ways to play with the data more closely, refuse fixed meanings, and sit with uncomfortable, unexpected moments. Again, I am not, nor will I ever be, an ‘expert’ when it comes to theory, but I did begin to find potential in finally letting it into my inquiry. I only hope that this entry may provide some support (or solace) for those of you struggling with theory ‘troubles’ of your own.
References (for further engagement):
Augustine, S. M. (2014). Living in a post-coding world: Analysis as assemblage. Qualitative Inquiry, 20(6), 747–753. https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800414530258
Childers, S. M. (2014). Promiscuous Analysis in Qualitative Research. Qualitative Inquiry, 20(6), 819–826. https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800414530266
Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (1987). A thousand plateaus: Capitalism and schizophrenia. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Hickey-Moody, A. (2013). Affect as Method: Feelings, Aesthetics and Affective Pedagogy. In R. Coleman & J. Ringrose (Eds.), Deleuze and Research Methodologies (pp. 79–95). Edinburgh, UK: Edinburgh University Press.
Jackson, A. Y., & Mazzei, L. A. (2012). Thinking with theory in qualitative research: Viewing data across multiple perspectives. London: Routledge.
MacLure, M. (2013). The wonder of data. Cultural Studies - Critical Methodologies, 13(4), 228–232. https://doi.org/10.1177/1532708613487863
Safron, C. (2020). Health, fitness, and affects in an urban after-school program. Sport, Education and Society, 25(5), 556–569. https://doi.org/10.1080/13573322.2019.1625318
Seigworth, G. J., & Gregg, M. (2010). Introduction: An Inventory of Shimmers. In M. Gregg & G. J. Seigworth (Eds.), The affect theory reader (pp. 1–28). Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Sperka, L. (2019). Selecting , understanding and applying theory as a neophyte researcher researcher. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 11(3), 348–363. https://doi.org/10.1080/2159676X.2018.1510430
Tinning, R. (2010). Pedagogy and human movement: Theory, practice, research. London: Routledge.