Setting up the workshops
June 7th, 2023
When I began planning my creative workshop at community organisation X, I was acutely aware of my position as an outsider stepping into a tightly-knit community. My conversations with the organization’s managers were not just logistical; they were deeply reflective, as we navigated the potential pitfalls of my role as an external researcher. One of the managers emphasized the critical importance of feedback—a concept I had previously considered important, but perhaps not with the same intensity that she conveyed. She recounted numerous instances where communities had been asked to contribute their thoughts, only to be left in the dark afterward, with no follow-up or clear understanding of how their input was used. Her words resonated with me, echoing a concern I had harboured since the early stages of my research: the fear of becoming yet another academic who extracts information without giving anything meaningful back.
In a way, the lack of feedback cycles in prior projects added to the community engagement fatigue that they felt was very prevalent among members from various community organisations. I began to see this not just as a professional challenge but as a deeply personal one. Would my work contribute to this fatigue, or could it help break the cycle? The conversation made me reflect on my own practices—I was acutely aware I did not just want to gather data without giving anything back to participants. However, how would I ensure that participants felt understood and valued through my PhD research?
The discussion then turned to trust—a topic that had been on my mind since I first conceived the workshop. I had worried whether the community members would trust me enough to engage in honest, open conversations about the state of urban spaces in Paisley. When the manager reassured me that they wouldn’t have endorsed or supported my project if they doubted my intentions, I felt a profound sense of relief. Their confidence in me wasn’t just a green light to proceed; it was a validation of the respect and care I had tried to bring into this process. This reassurance didn’t just soothe my anxieties; it strengthened my resolve to ensure that the workshop would be more than just an academic exercise. Their excitement and appreciation for my flexibility in scheduling and adapting the workshop setup were not just professional niceties—they were affirmations that I was on the right path. These interactions reminded me that research, at its best, is a collaborative, iterative process. It’s not just about extracting information; it’s about building relationships and creating spaces where genuine dialogue can occur.
Looking back, I realize that this experience was as much about my growth as a researcher as it was about the community’s engagement with the project. The workshop wasn’t just a chance to gather data—it was an opportunity to challenge and refine my approach, to ensure that I was truly listening and adapting to the needs of those I was working with. Rather than rigidly adhering to a pre-established workshop plan, I’ve learned that true insight emerges when I remain open to the unexpected twists and turns introduced by the participants – even if that flexibility means that you’re open to things going wrong (if there is even such a thing?), which in essence creates some natural anxiety. It’s in these moments of flexibility, when I allow their voices to shape the direction of the work, that my research feels the most authentic – when it stops being just my project and becomes something co-created.