In addition to being one of those academic new mothers who thinks, talks, and writes a lot about figuring out the work family thing, I’m also one of those sociologists who collects data in a far away place featuring malaria, frequent food shortages, and an unsafe water supply. This summer will be our first shot at fieldwork as a family. I’m dreading the plane ride. I’m anticipating it being difficult at times – chaotic and unpredictable throughout. I’m anticipating a lot of swearing while hand-washing cloth diapers in the evening while trying to stay caught up on fieldnotes. I can’t wait to test-drive my new status as mother; I know it will substantially alter the type of access I have, shedding new light on both the new project I’m starting and the older stuff I’m trying to publish. I can think of nothing better than pursuing the research I care very deeply about with my loved ones at my side. Did I mention that I can’t wait?
Most people would agree that in the context of causal conversation, it’s impolite to ask, “So what about [insert worst thing you can imagine happening to one's child here]? Aren’t you worried about that?” Yet as departure day nears, people are asking me this question multiple times a day. I’m afraid I’m going to lose it the next time somebody asks. Have I educated myself about the risks? Yes. Have GC and I had serious conversations about these that include planning for emergencies? Yes. Are health and illness randomly distributed? Do we have the resources to keep ourselves healthy? No. Yes. And sheesh; of all people, social scientists should know this cold! Logic combined with a little bit of statistical knowledge goes a long way in helping us justify the series of decisions surrounding our the decision to take the family to the field this summer. But I don’t feel compelled to argue my case here or to the individuals who casually ask me questions that would make any parent’s blood freeze.
I know the question is asked out of curiosity and without malice, but the question I hear is: “What kind of mother would expose her small children to unnecessary health risks for the sake of her career? Only a reckless, selfish, and very bad one! What kind of mother are you?” The problem is insensitivity to a pretty obvious type of role conflict – one that do-gooder liberal academics pride themselves on being attuned to.
Though I’ve had lots of helpful conversations with scholars and fellow adventurers who have made similar decisions, I’ve found surprisingly few resources and literature addressing this issue. Fieldwork and Families offers some interesting perspectives on the problem but, as expected, no clear answers or even ready responses. I haven’t been able to find any blogs about traveling in remote-ish locations with little ones — probably because the demands of scholarship and family life in these settings leaves even less time for writing about it. With any luck, diaper washing and fieldnotes won’t totally sabotage my big plans to document some of the more personal and tedious aspects of our big adventure in service to the discipline. Happy Mother’s Day!
