Methods Exercise 4: Oral History vs. Ethnography

Oral History and Ethnography are two methods widely used in anthropology and other disciplines as a way of understanding daily life or past experience. In both methods, the researcher spends time with an informant, asking questions and recording details, but from there, the methodologies differ greatly.
An ethnographer’s goal is to gain an understanding of a community’s current experience. For this reason, they place themselves within the community they wish to study becoming both observers and participators in the customs and rituals of that community. Ethnographers spend a considerable amount of time with their informants in the community they are studying, at least a year in most cases. This kind of day-to-day interaction means that the ethnographer is not only exposed to the informants’ words by way of interviews, but is also able to observe how their informants interact with other members of the community. Thus, it is not only important for an ethnographer to have a good informant, a “native speaker” of the community, but they must also notice how that individual navigates that space in relation to others and interpret the significance of that. Ethnographers must be aware of changes in the community and how or if they relate to changes in time, leadership, events etc.
There are also several ways in which an ethnographer can conduct field notes. While they can simply transcribe interviews by way of recordings, like Oral Historians do, it is also very common for ethnographers to go through their day in the community and write down their observations and thoughts after the fact. This means that much of the final ethnography is subject to interpretation, and while direct quotes from informants may be present, the ethnography itself will inevitably be written through the ethnographer’s eyes and with his or her understanding via guidance of the informants. For this reason, it is important that ethnographers are forthcoming with their own backgrounds, opinions, and stakes in the research because they will most definitely color the way in which they “read” the community. For an ethnographer to have integrity, he or she must be aware that their own identity will influence what they not only how they interpret their experience in the community but also what they think is important enough to be remembered, recorded and ultimately shared. They must also rely all of this to their informants.
In these final few ways, ethnography and oral history overlap. From their interviews, Oral Historians are the ones that ultimately decide what is important, interesting, and relevant to the work they are doing. Thus, oral historians must inform their interviewees of the purpose of their project and what their motivations are for recording their history. Often, this reassurance in the value of the speaker’s testimony is necessary because oral historians are interested in reconstructing a specific moment in time from a point of view that is rarely considered. While we often think of history as a factual recounting of past events, it is important to realize that there are people behind the pen with their own opinions, ideas and motivations. There are people who get their stories told and people who are passed over, even though they were just as present. Oral historians strive to fill these holes in history and give academia, as well as the public, an opportunity to see history in a different light. However, oral historians are not simply inscribers of a narrator’s story. On the contrary, because their work is often designed to add to already existing historical knowledge, some oral historians feel that they have a responsibility to connect an individual’s life story to a broader historical narrative or context. The work might be largely comprised of the narrator’s own words and interpretations but how and why those experiences impact our understanding of history will be determined by the researcher themselves.
Oral historians and ethnographers differ in several ways. Ethnographers spend more time with their informants and become thoroughly enmeshed in the daily lives of the community as a way to understand what life is like for them right now. Oral historians however, meet with their narrators on a few occasions to record their experiences during a particular moment in history, a moment that the oral historian is actively trying to reconstruct through his or her narrator’s point of view. Both oral historians and ethnographers have a personal stake in their research and a reason why they think it is important to do. The questions they are trying to answer may be different, but both are simply trying to illuminate experiences that may be in the general public’s or academic public’s blind spot. Thus no one method is greater than the other, simply different.
Africana studies benefits greatly from both research methods because there are some questions that may be better answered through ethnography and others that are better suited to oral history. Much of African American as well as African diasporic history has been heavily silenced by dominant groups that ultimately got to decide who’s history got told. Because of this, finding narrators willing to share their own historical experiences is useful to all people wanting to gain a more holistic understanding of history. However, it is no secret that people of African decent are still largely marginalized throughout the world. Unfortunately, their position as second class citizens is often built into the very structure of the countries in which they inhibit, at least this is so in the United States. Thus, ethnographies that place researchers in the same communities as African Americans, for example, allows the ethnographer experience the current disparities first hand. When these ethnographies become public documents, it then allows society to grapple with these important issues. These two methods might approach Africana Studies from different angles, but just as history influences the present, oral history and ethnography work together and off each other to deepen the understanding of the black experience as a whole. Thus, both methods are important in the continual evolution of this field.

Word Count: 1005

Methods Exercise 3

Performance Studies: Dramatizing Texts and Reading the Performed Body

–Performative Writing–

“Campaign Launch” – October 3, 2015 (6:00pm – 6:45pm)

As I step out from the music building, the cold air hits me immediately and I look down at my bare legs, suddenly regretting my decision to wear a dress tonight. “We were thinking of dressing nicely,” Claire had said yesterday, right after my choir and I had decided on wearing jeans and Williams gear. I am going to be on the big stage tonight, along with Claire and four other students, leading the audience in “The Mountains.” We are only supposed to be up there for 5 minutes so I didn’t really see the point of getting all dressed up, but “Sure,” I had answered Claire. It was, after all, going to be a performance.

Walking up the stairs towards Paresky Lawn, I look around and see only 200 or so people milling about. The event covers all of Paresky lawn as well as the new library quad. Over the past couple of weeks, workers had toiled tirelessly to grow grass on the new field, but a few days ago they began covering the beautiful new growth with thin slabs of wood and then with sheets of fake plastic grass. It is greener, cleaner and sturdier than the real grass for sure, but it doesn’t help the over-all feel of Williams “trying too hard” to put on this show. And it is a show. At the very end of the fake lawn, right before you hit the new marble ground in front of Stetson Sawyer, there is a massive black stage set up. This is the one I’ll be standing on later. It’s the kind of thing you see at music festivals, with lights, microphones, a near-by sound tent, enormous speakers on either side, three huge screens (currently displaying the name “Williams” in our classic font) and a full crew comprised of both professional technicians and students. By the looks of it, you’d think some big production was about to take place…

Indeed, the super-secret surprise performer is all anyone has been talking about for a week, and having the stage right in front of us is definitely cranking up the anticipation.
“I saw a limo pull up earlier, maybe they did get Kanye…” someone laughs.
“I heard it’s supposed to be the Dave Mathews Band,” his friend offers.
“No, isn’t it that Chinese musician guy, the one that was an alumn?”
“I thought they asked him and he said no? Or he got sick or something…”
“I don’t know…guess we’ll find out…”

It’s fifteen minutes into the event and as more people show up, the energy is exciting but not exactly celebratory. People are happy enough to be here getting free food, hanging out with friends, etc., but there’s this kind of awkwardness in the air. No one really gets why they’re here, why it’s such a big deal, or even how big of a deal it is. A campaign launch for newer buildings (this is what people are assuming the money is for because we don’t know that either) is great and all, yay for the college, but the way they’re hyping it all up, keeping all these secrets…the stage…the fake grass. People are confused. I know I am. I’m actually performing on that stage and I still have no idea what’s going on.

I look away from the tent and survey the rest of the area. There are at least 10 white tents set up; most are on Paresky Lawn, with only three on the new quad. One huge one has rows and rows of tables and chairs. The rest are small, some offering food and snacks, others offering beverages, both hot and cold, and some acting as “stages,” where some of the student performers are showcasing their talents. The food tents have white signs with blocky purple writing advertising their selections: “Chicken Tikka Masala,” “BBQ Beef & Pad Thai,” “Chili, Fajitas,” “Apple Treats,” and my favorite one so far, “Popcorn, Cotton Candy, & Sausages.” A little bit of everything, it seems.

At the sight of food and the sound of music, my choir is starting to disperse so I shout out some reminders about meeting at Chapin steps, or “Stage 1,” in an hour. This is where they have arranged for Gospel Choir to perform. Some of us go off in twos or threes but the majority of us stay in the “Chicken Tikki Masala” line. We’re in good spirits, having just completed an almost perfect run through of the songs we’ll be singing tonight. Most of us are still humming or singing together, harmonies flowing in and out, when a lady with a giant camera suddenly comes up to us. “Can I get a picture of you guys?” she asks. The choir is excited. We round up our members and huddle together, smiling brightly. This is our first pic of the semester with all our new members. Being with our little family, it feels good. The smiles feel real, natural.

“It’ll probably show up on the screens in a few minutes” she informs us. We all “ooh” and “ahh” at this and every pair of eyes scans the area for the screens. I glance at my choir and realize how diverse we are: a mix Black, White, Latina, Asian people singing gospel music. A little bit of everything. I can’t help but think how we’re exactly what Williams wants up on that screen. Suddenly, the picture feels staged, like those pictures on the brochures colleges send out to convince prospective students that there’s diversity on campus.

As I reach the front of the line, I’m given a small brown carton with a spoon of rice, a ladle of chicken masala sauce, a veggie fritter and a fork. The lady asks to see my wristband, the one that confirms I’m a student at Williams and should be getting free food and drink. Really, I wonder, what else would a black girl be doing in this place? Soon, she’s not going to have time for this, I realize, as I walk away. The line behind me is already fifty people deep. My friends and I wander to the acapella tent, or “Stage 4,” where a sizable crowd is listening to the Ephlats performing a rendition of Madonna’s “Like a Prayer.” Everyone is jamming and cheering them on. For a moment it just feels like an outdoor Ephlats concert, which is totally plausible on this acapella-obsessed campus. This, right here, is authentically Williams but the event stretches yards beyond this little pocket of people.

I’ve somehow blocked out all the different musical performances up until now. Back on Chapin steps, Comboza is entertaining a crowd with their improvisational comedy. Bursts of laughter suggest they’re doing a good job. Right next to them, projected onto a huge screen, is the emerging artwork of a student sketch artist. On Paresky steps, a student band is providing perfect background music for all the diners, and off towards Main Street I hear the sweet sound of a violin. It’s strange. Separately, all these sounds would be normal because Williams is all these things and does have all this talent. And on any given night, you might find one of these groups performing or simply practicing their craft. But all of it together? Students jumping “on and off stage,” facilitators hurrying them to their places, the meticulous detail that was put into showing every single type of talent the students have to offer…it feels like too much, like we’re showing off. And for who? Each other? The donors? Just because?

At 6:40pm I decide that I need to go home and change clothes. It’s too cold to dress nicely. No one is going to care if I wear jeans or not. Performance or not. As I walk through the crowd, the confusion and awkwardness seems to be falling away for everyone. Heading towards a quiet main street, I hear laughter and light chatter and only a few irritated comments about the long lines and the cold. It’s dark now and the tents are lit up with tiny lights. It looks like Christmas. Breaking away from the crowd, and looking back I realize there are well over 2,000 people present now. From a distance, seeing everyone huddled together talking and laughing among all the lights and the music and the food…the event looks so cozy and intimate. So inviting. People driving by must think we’re having a warm community event, our own little Williams festival. Little do they know that it’s all a part of the show.