A couple of weeks ago, I got a notification on my phone’s photo app that it had been 7 years since I was in Berlin. This particular visit was significant as it was during the period of overseas fieldwork I conducted back in 2019 for my PhD. That particular day, I was due to conduct my first interview with an AfD elected representative. I was incredibly early, but thought I’d have a stroll around, but of course, it started to rain. I went to Starbucks and had two coffees (on top of the one I’d had first thing) to settle my nerves. My shoes were incredibly uncomfortable (I’d later donate them to Oxfam and buy some trainers from Deichmann). My umbrella was falling apart. I was scared that my German wasn’t up to scratch. I was scared that my hair would be messed up by the rain. I finally got to the interview venue and to my immense relief (and minor annoyance given the 3 coffees), the interviewee ended up wanting to practice their English instead of speaking German.
At the end of the session, the interviewee asked for my business card so they could give it to colleagues, perhaps even some big names. You can probably guess who that could mean. I didn’t have a business card. They were gracious about it but I could tell that I’d committed some kind of faux pas but thanked them profusely for their time nonetheless. I can’t really remember what I did afterwards aside from float onto the S-Bahn and end up back in my base town. I imagine I went to the supermarket and bought some Katyes (did you know that Percy Pig is called Fred Ferkel in Germany?). I then probably went to BackWerk to pick up this apple rice pudding pot I was obsessed with at the time. It’s funny how many of my memories about my fieldwork revolve around the food I had. I still think about Eierschecke from time to time.
This reminder of my time away felt bittersweet. Overall, the whole trip was a success as I set out with just one interview scheduled and ended up with 8. I got to stay with a dear friend who could tolerate my snoring for two months. I got to practice my German and go to places I hadn’t been to before. I reaped the benefits of inexpensive train fare across Germany. I read a lot of books. My partner and I went to the Bodyworlds exhibition when they came to visit. The sense of autonomy and independence was quite powerful. The flip side of this, however, was that I was working pretty much constantly. I was often alone. I felt insecure about my ability to bring the project to fruition. My friend’s recycling bin was ridiculously hard to open and all the clanging drew attention from the neighbours who’d watch my struggle impassively from their balconies. I remember I was walking around town and a crow dropped a conker on my head and I started crying in the street. The trip was both an enriching and frustrating experience in equal measures.
I’ve reflected on my time in the field in both my PhD and my subsequent publications, including my book; I make the argument that while, for example, a crow dropping a conker on my head isn’t meaningful in and of itself, the way I felt at that time did impact the research process, even if I didn’t recognise it until later. A feminist-inspired approach posits that a recognition of feelings and emotions are important; I argue that we (i.e., researchers) are just as much a part of our research as those we ask to participate in it. I won’t rehash it here, but in Chapter One of my book, I talk about some of my own life experiences and positionality and its impact on the research process. Some of those reflections were quite painful but, in my view, necessary to the ‘story’ or narrative I try to develop in my work that no woman is an island; that inevitably includes me. This is a trade off I was willing to make given that my interviewees often gave me intimate accounts of their own lives and experiences, some of which were undoubtedly difficult for them to reconcile with the realities of their political activism today.
Would I do it all again? Probably. Would I do it the same way? Probably not. Do I forgive the crow that dropped a conker on my head? Of course.
