Interesting Quotes, Vol. 10

Christopher Poulos on Autoethnography

I’m in Madison, Wisconsin, as I write this post, and it’s been a wonderful visit with Michael so far. The last time I visited, he asked me about the difference between autobiography and autoethnography.

It’s a good question, and I never properly answered it for him. In my experience, autobiography is a retelling of events from the past, which may or may not include an interpretation of those events.

Autoethnography includes not only telling stories but also analyzing the events from our past and placing them within cultural and political contexts. As a qualitative research method, autoethnography includes ethical considerations and rigor. It should also make a meaningful contribution. There are criteria for judging the quality of autoethnographic work.

Dr. Carolyn Ellis says that autoethnographers work to “connect the autobiographical and personal to the cultural and social” by privileging “concrete action, emotion, embodiment, self-consciousness, and introspection.”

I thought it would be fun to write an Interesting Quotes post with excerpts from Dr. Christopher Poulos, author of Essentials of Autoethnography.¹

“Like autobiography, memoir, and creative nonfiction, autoethnography actively and reflexively uses writing as an integral part of research and as a primary method of inquiry” (Poulos, 2021, p. 4).

Outside of those of us who do qualitative research, I’m not sure many people think about writing as a method of inquiry, but it serves that function for me.

“We insist on writing as a dynamic, fluid, continuous method of inquiry” (Poulos, 2021, p. 33).

I love the image in the following excerpt of digging through memories because this captures well what it was like to explore my journals as a researcher:

“We autoethnographers take memory seriously, even as we are aware of its slipping vicissitudes, shadowy fragmentations, and potential wrong turns. The autoethnographer digs through, sifts, sorts, and mines the meanings of memories as they rise into consciousness or emerge in story or dialogue.” (Poulos, 2021, p. 28)

One interesting thing during my autoethnographic process was paying attention to what memories and journal entries I was reluctant to share. While creating the documents about my journals, I knew that I might make data available for others from my writing. Whenever I wanted to keep something to myself and not include it, I knew it was essential to face and examine why I wanted to hide those entries.

What constitutes “good” autoethnography?

“Good autoethnography requires mindful and studied observation of and participation in human social life, deep reflection and systematic introspection, emotional and attentive attunement, continuous self-reflexivity, thoughtful attention to theoretical and philosophical constructs and concerns, grounded cultural and historical knowledge, educated speculation and interpretation and cultural critique, and serious attention to the craft of writing.” (Poulos, 2021, p. 29)

In 2021, I attended the International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry for the first time and participated in a workshop on autoethnography with Drs. Carolyn Ellis and Art Bochner. They talked about “living the autoethnographic life,” and we can also see that theme in Poulos’s work.

“An autoethnographer adapts autoethnographic inquiry as a way of life, and what ensues is a complex and captivating struggle to come to grips with the meaning(s) of human social interaction. The researcher engages in a search for meaning, understanding, sense making, insight, knowledge, coconstruction of social reality, and evocation—in written story form—of our rich, textured, nuanced, complex, embodied human experience.” (Poulos, 2021, p. 32)

The existential questioning I’ve discussed in my posts is also part of what drives this work for others. The need to understand and come to grips with what it means to be human is something many qualitative researchers find relatable.

 “What drives autoethnographic writing is a curious fascination, an embracing of the mystery that swirls around us as we try to come to grips with what it means to be a human being.” (Poulos, 2021, p. 33)

The intensely emotional nature of the work, along with the intellectual aspect, has changed over time for me. During the first months working with my personal data in 2014, so many tears were shed. It felt important for me to somehow convey the depth of emotion and feeling in the presentations and writing that came later, but it’s never easy to do justice to the process.

“Autoethnographic writing is a way of constructing research texts that conjure, arouse, or elicit vivid images, deep meanings, and intense emotions. Autoethnographic writing requires an intensive search through these layers of imagery, meaning, and emotion” (Poulos, 2021, p. 52).

I realize that I am an extreme case in many ways, and I wasn’t sure how much people would be able to relate to my story of being an outlier who was lost for years and ready to give up on myself.

I knew that talking about my history of mental illness and addiction would be shocking to other people. The following excerpt feels very true from my experience. When I’m sharing about my life, I sometimes want to warn audiences that I’m about to deliver a harrowing tale, but the end result is a happy one.

“At its best, autoethnography stuns (or at least provokes) the reader—into deeply felt emotion, silence, action, questioning, vibrant conversation, deep reflection, and embracing life at its fullest, richest, most painful, and most ecstatic. It is fundamentally disruptive (Poulos, 2004). That said, reading and writing autoethnography is not for the faint of heart. Brace yourself.” (Poulos, 2021, p. 77)

It’s true that doing autoethnography is not for the faint of heart. There were places in my journals where I recognized traumatic experiences for the first time. I talked about this a little bit in episode 8.

While preparing for the first conference presentation in October 2014, I wrote,

“I can’t keep going over this stuff. I feel traumatized—like I'd never felt the trauma in Las Vegas for what it was, until now. My eyes are puffy. I'm tired.

When I tried hard, in treatment (e.g., Arms Acres or Menninger) it was interpreted incorrectly. Like I was faking it, or rushing. When I'm actually just like that. When I'm motivated to do well, I try hard.” (Journal entry, age 41)

So many difficult memories were brought up and examined. I poured over my journal entries and medical records. It wasn’t easy to face what I’d experienced in mental health treatment. I was finally letting myself feel the feelings I hadn’t been able to access when I was younger.

Poulos describes well what it’s like to do this work:

“The deep emotional introspection associated with this form of academic writing comes with inherent vulnerability and exposure to the judgment of others, along with the possibility of opening up old trauma, stirring up painful memories, digging into taboo subjects, or sparking grief or other deep emotions. So the writer (and the reader) should proceed with caution and take care of their emotional states. Another risk that is often overlooked is that this work is hard. Writing is difficult. Writing well—writing beautifully, that is—is much harder than most people think.” (Poulos, 2021, p. 77)

Even though autoethnography can feel harrowing, the rewards are also great.

Here’s a reflection on getting to know Michael and the impact of doing an autoethnography from April 2019:

“I guess the big thing that has changed thanks to Michael is the lens change that I’ve gone through when it comes to my past. During the autoethnography, I looked back at the past and thought of myself as having more than one type of mental illness. All I had for making sense of it came from the world of psychiatry. I felt that medication would be necessary for the rest of my life. I saw myself as essentially damaged and defective. It took time for me to process what I read in the work of Dąbrowski and Piechowski. It took time for me to get to a place where I could open my mind to such an alternative to the DSM.” (Journal entry, age 46)

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I’ve got two more full days in Wisconsin after today. On Friday night, we finally recorded a podcast episode with Michael. He did beautifully as a guest, and we’re excited to share his wisdom and reflections on working with the theory of positive disintegration with our listeners.

In case you were wondering what the Wisconsin border rest area looked like when I drove through last weekend, here’s the photo I took on October 7, 2023.

1. Poulos, C. N. (2021). Essentials of autoethnography. American Psychological Association.