Unequal Childhoods

by Annette Lareau

  Wendy felt that the book erased the differences between working-class and poor families, and that this made her family seem poor.

  The most upsetting piece, however, was the portrayal of her mother’s role in her schooling. Wendy was certain that her mother had been very active in fighting the school. She fundamentally rejected the book’s version:

  It says right here, it says that the teacher said she was very loving, but “they are disappointed in Ms. Driver’s failure to take a more active, interventionist role in Wendy’s education.” [p. 209] My mom stuck around. . . . My mom—I mean, my teachers, I know none of my teachers would say that because my mom [was] fighting with the teachers.

  Wendy was insistent that her teachers would not have characterized her mother that way:

  I can remember all my teachers in grade school. And I cannot imagine any of my teachers saying that about my mom. Maybe they’d be like, “She’s a bitch,” because she comes up too much, or maybe, “She’s a nag,” because she’s always constantly on the phone with them. I mean my mom in high school had a fight with one of my teachers because she [the teacher] didn’t want me to graduate, she didn’t want me to be there. And she fought with them every day. I mean, I just cannot imagine any of my teachers saying that.

  Wendy’s mother and stepfather, in different ways, also expressed anger and disappointment with the way they had been represented in the book. Ms. Driver denied that she felt obligated to take her children to the emergency room lest they be turned in to protective services. Wendy’s stepfather was livid over the family portrait, in part because he perceived his wife and stepdaughter as having been injured by the book. Similarly, in her conversation with me, Ms. Driver focused more on how worried she was over Wendy’s reaction to the book and less on her own feelings.

  The Taylor Family (African American boy/working-class) As I did with all of the families, when I called Ms. Taylor to schedule an interview, I said that I wanted to “come for a visit” to see how things were going. I added that I wanted to do a follow-up interview, for which she would receive an honorarium. Researchers are required to create complex paper trails (e.g., interview consent forms, receipts for honorariums), but interviewees typically have only their recollections of events. As I did with all of the families, I subsequently sent Ms. Taylor a summary of her reaction to the book. She objected to what I had written, particularly (as she alludes to below) to a statement that she had found the visits to be “fun.” Per her request, I have withdrawn my summary of her reaction to the book. With her permission, I have substituted her email message to me (edited slightly for length and punctuation). She summarizes the position expressed by many of the families: her family was misused.

  Hello Annette,

  Unfortunately, I do not wish to have anything that I’ve said [about my reaction to the book] printed. . . . In fact, you did not come to visit, but instead you came to further observe me and my family for your own gain, and you did it under false pretense by calling it a visit and, once inside and settled, pulling out your tape recorder.

  Your observation is just that, your own, and when you put it in print it becomes factual to others who may read it, and that is unfortunate.

  I did not allow you to come into my home and judge my family because I thought it would be fun. I did it because I somehow believed, as a very young mother separated from her husband and scared to death of what in the world would become of my children’s future, that you may somehow have been able to help us.

  You, on the other hand, were only in this for your own reward. So, if you want to print something, print what I really feel and print it in my writing and from my perspective.

  By the way, here’s another suggestion for the researchers of the future: If you want to complete research on families from different backgrounds, cultures, races, and educational levels, do it with fairness to all and include people from those backgrounds to help understand just what is going on, because if you have never been there, you can’t begin to understand what is there.

  Regards,

  Celeste R. Taylor

  The Yanelli Family (white boy/working-class) The reaction of the Yanelli family developed over time. At first, the interaction among us was very difficult for everyone, as my notes show:

  I had dropped by with the book to the Yanellis about ten days ago. I called and then went by tonight. They are very, very hurt. They feel as if the book portrays them as child abusers. Little Billy said that he thought that I “twisted” things and (looking down) said that he was “ashamed.” He said that he had been looking forward to showing people about the book but now he felt that he couldn’t show it to anyone. Big Billy looked angry. He preferred not to discuss it, but at one point when I was in the kitchen talking to Linda, [he] called out, “You slurred us, Annette; you made us look like poor white trash.”

  Ms. Yanelli thought that the chapter [on them] was “the grand finale,” since it came last. She was particularly upset that they were the last chapter since she thought it made it worse. I talked with them, taped the mom’s feedback, and then hung out. It was tense but okay but still tense.

  In the interview, Ms. Yanelli said she felt that the book was highly critical of her and her family, that it “looked down” on them. She thought that the description of the Tallingers as having a “glass of wine” sounded “better” than that of Mr. Yanelli as “having a beer.” She also reported that she did not feel powerless with the school. She felt that she had fought the school and had shown determination and strength. In addition, Ms. Yanelli categorically denied that certain events had taken place. She said that she had never in her life purchased a lottery ticket, for example. Also, she felt that “the headline” (i.e., the chapter title, “Beating with a Belt, Fearing ‘the School’: Little Billy Yanelli”) stressed the child abuse issue.

  In part, the Yanelli family’s reactions were related to their expectations. During a phone conversation, Ms. Yanelli told me, “I thought it was going to be like the book that Oprah had.”21 I was distressed each time I encountered a family that reacted negatively to the book, but the Yanellis’ wounded feelings were especially difficult because I felt particularly close to this family.22 Fortunately, a quirk of fate led to a shift in their views. Ms. Yanelli cleans the house of a sociologist whom I know slightly (we work at different universities). One day, he happened to be home while she was cleaning. She saw that he had Unequal Childhoods on his bookshelf. She told him that she was in the book and described how disappointed she and the rest of her family were with the book. Later, when I called the Yanellis (just to say hello and keep in touch), Ms. Yanelli told me that he had “explained” the book to her, saying that it was about things that were not right in society, with some people having more than others. She said that he had “made her” understand the book, and now she and her family were “fine with it.”23

  Reaction of the Poor Families

  The Brindle Family (white girl/poor) The Brindles’ lives were in a different and largely better place when I followed up with them than they had been during the initial study. In a phone conversation, Ms. Brindle said that the book “brought back” the earlier period. She said, “It made me laugh, it made me cry.” It made her feel as if they had moved along and things had gotten better. Ms. Brindle said, “There was one thing that did bother me. Why did you say that we were the most disturbed family in the book?” Stuttering and somewhat flustered, I said that at the time, Jenna had just been diagnosed as HIV-positive, they were being evicted, and things seemed generally difficult. Ms. Brindle did not reply. (Since we were on the telephone, I could not see her facial expression.) In her interview, Katie did not express criticisms of the book’s portrayal of her family. She seemed to have been most struck by the descriptions of her interest in performing plays and her dramatic side. Referring to them, she told me that she thought that she could have been an actress and that she wished that had happened. Overall, the Brindles did not seem to be troubled by the book. This surpr
ised me a great deal. As I have noted, with each family, the possibility of a negative reaction worried me. The Brindles were of special concern because their life situation had been so difficult during the study period. I did not want them to think that I was judging them. The considerable distance that they had traveled in terms of economic security seemed to contribute to their positive assessment of the book. They saw their lives as now being in a different place.

  The McAllister Family (African American boy/poor) The housing project where the McAllister family had lived when we first met was torn down, and I lost touch with them for a number of years. After several failed attempts to track them down, I tried searching on the internet for the name of Harold’s father. I found an address and phone number for a person with that name and ended up speaking with Harold’s older brother. He gave me Ms. McAllister’s number. I called and spoke with her, and then I went by her house.

  Ms. McAllister was surprised to see me reappear in their lives after several years. They had wondered what had happened to me and “the book.” Of all the people portrayed in Unequal Childhoods, she seemed the most excited to discover that the book had been published and that they were in it. She was visibly pleased. She seemed excited and proud that there was a book about her family. She held her copy and, flipping the pages in awe, said, “I’m going to show it to my sisters.”

  I hung out at the house for a while and played with the kids while she read. She thought parts were hilarious, including the section about my walking through their neighborhood and people thinking I was a dope dealer or a welfare person, as well as the section about the family reunion when Greg, one of the research assistants, had trouble spotting me. Ms. McAllister had quipped, “She the only white person here and you can’t find her?” The quote and the memory it evoked made her laugh out loud. She pronounced her verdict on the book: “I don’t have no problem with it.”

  A bit later, in a much more somber tone, Ms. McAllister said, “So we communicate without words.” She seemed to be pondering the idea that her family was being evaluated during the study observations. I nodded and said, “At least that is the way it seemed compared to other families.” While reading more, she said, clearly surprised, “You wrote down my words with the kids?” I nodded. I told her that I was worried it might bother her and that some of the families were fine with the book, but some were bothered by it. She dismissed this thought. She said, “I know my family is crazy.”

  ENDURING CHALLENGES

  In reassessing the book for the second edition, I have concluded that relatively small changes in wording or emphasis could have made the text more accurate and less hurtful to family members. For example, weight is always a sensitive issue. Rather than describing Melanie Handlon as “chubby,” which is evocative but also evaluative, I should have used more neutral language. I could have noted that according to weight tables for children her age and height, she would have been considered overweight. In recounting the Driver family’s response to Wendy’s catechism question, I should have been clearer that her parents and brother listened to her carefully when she asked them if they knew what a mortal sin was (such attention is a form of acknowledgment) but did not transform her question into a teachable moment. The original text makes it seem, as Wendy angrily pointed out, as if her family members had ignored her. In the case of the Yanellis, it is likely that Ms. Yanelli was buying the lottery ticket for Billy’s dad and not for herself; I should have kept track of that detail. Thus, there are some issues that could have been handled differently. Overall, though, most families seemed to feel that the book resonated with their experiences. Accuracy was not the crux of the problem. The problem was how the families felt about the way they were portrayed.

  “Traumatic for Both Sides”

  Michael Burawoy correctly notes that a revisit by an ethnographer to a research site to learn the reaction of the study participants (what he terms a “valedictory revisit”) is rare and often traumatic:

  When the ethnographer returns to the participants, armed with the results of the study, whether in draft or published form [t]he purpose is . . . to ascertain the participants’ responses to the reported research. . . . This is the moment of judgment, when previous relations are reassessed, theory is put to the test, and accounts are reevaluated. It can be traumatic for both sides, and for this reason it is all too rare.24

  As Burawoy suggests, it is not uncommon for some study participants to be surprised and very unhappy when they read a researcher’s written portrayal of them.25 When I recruited the families for the original study, I told them I would be writing a book. At the very beginning of the study, when they were signing consent forms, for example, family members often asked if they would be getting a copy of the book. At that point, feeling that it was the least I could do, given their willingness to open up their lives to me, I promised to provide copies. As the study progressed, I began to worry about how the families might react to the book. One impetus for the study was my desire to correct what I considered the superficial and overly romantic view of child rearing that dominated the literature. I wanted to present a realistic view of family life. Still, as I grew emotionally attached to the family members, I worried about the necessity of objectifying them in the writing process. I was concerned that what I planned to write might hurt their feelings.26

  When I was still in their homes, sitting around in the kitchen chatting, collecting the original data, I did try to warn the families that the final product probably would not be to their liking. “You know, when someone takes a picture of someone and everyone else thinks it is fine, but the person really doesn’t like it?” I would say. They would nod, somewhat uncertainly. I would then continue, “Well, that is how it will probably be with the book. You probably won’t like it.” Still, I think that the families and I were both surprised by the level of pain, hurt, and dismay—the very kind of reaction Burawoy notes—that the book created for many. One mother said, “I know that you warned us.” But seeing the results in print made the findings painfully real.

  This likely negative, even “traumatic,” aspect of research has not been fully integrated into methodological writings, despite striking examples from well-known—even classic—studies. Arthur Vidich was hung in effigy after Small Town in Mass Society was published; communities featured in the early sociological studies such as Yankee City also expressed ire. William Foote Whyte reported the tense reaction, particularly on the part of Doc, to Street Corner Society.27 More recently, a few researchers have vividly described the anger and hurt expressed by ethnographic study participants, but these descriptions have tended to focus on the researcher’s decision not to reveal her or his intention to write a book or the researcher’s decision to conceal key information which would have mattered to study participants.28

  Considering the Alternatives

  To help mitigate problems study participants experience, some researchers suggest that ethnographers should share the study results prior to publication, so that participants can articulate their concerns.29 This viewpoint is both optimistic and problematic. It raises complex questions regarding the balance between what researchers owe study participants and how much control the researcher ought to retain over what is written.

  Some people argue that having participants read draft text and give feedback provides “buy in” on the part of respondents.30 Writers on this subject have also recommended various forms of “member checks.” These range from sharing certain information with participants in order to confirm the accuracy of small details to asking respondents to validate the researcher’s analysis and conclusions. Checks of the former type generally are of little consequence to a study’s main argument or to the relationship with the study participants, particularly if they can be managed in informal, verbal interactions (e.g., stopping by to say hello and checking the information in the midst of a broader conversation about other issues). But checks that involve sharing the written report or a prepublication draft can bring signific
ant perils.

  Although the voices of study participants are crucial, they represent only one piece of a complex puzzle. Who should decide the focus of what the researcher writes?31 Study participants are likely to want certain issues to be developed and recast to reflect their own views. If a researcher requests the time and energy of respondents to read text and provide feedback, then the researcher should plan to incorporate that feedback. But academics face constraints from disciplinary standards, editorial boards, and publishers about the shape of the argument or the length of a piece; as a result, researchers can find that they have solicited input that they cannot or do not want to incorporate. They have issued a contradictory invitation to their respondents, saying, essentially, “I know this text may upset you, but I would love for you to take the time to read it and give me your considered opinion. You may have a different understanding of the events; your input is valuable. But, you also need to know that I have to have the final say on the piece. I may, or may not, be able to make the changes you suggest.” Arguably, this kind of highly constrained request for input is yet another tax on study participants; in some circumstances, it could be more an act of tokenism than a sincere request for honest feedback that could radically reshape the publication.

  Some researchers have successfully negotiated this process. They have shared their work and argued with participants over the portraits. They have made changes. They have used the prepublication stage to “work through” conflict. Ethnographers such as Hugh Mehan, Tim Black, Mark Warren, and others have managed to make clear their sincere interest in respondents’ feedback, but also make clear that the goal is to correct inaccuracies and not to reshape the written representation.32 Some advocates of prepublication discussions in which subjects provide their interpretation of events feel these sessions offer the potential additional advantage of helping researchers deepen and improve their analyses.